


Di sotto in sù

by geothebio



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Artist AU, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Graphic descriptions of violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Terrorism?, Newt is an Awkward Bean and I Love Him, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, mentions of torture, occasional swears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:25:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geothebio/pseuds/geothebio
Summary: An AU where Newt still has a few of his magical beasts but instead he works as an artist/painter. A niffler gets loose and he ends up helping on a case at MACUSA as a sketch artist. Written to take place at the beginning of the movie (with some minor changes), but Grindelwald never kidnaps and impersonates Graves.





	1. Grisaille

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh. This is my first fic ever so I'm incredibly inexperienced and don't have a beta or anything and I know little to nothing about this platform so please bear with me if i make mistakes. Otherwise all the typos are completely my bad and I'll probably notice 20 of them immediately after i publish this.
> 
> There may or may not be smut in later chapters but I can't make any promises because I'm literally so inexperienced with writing fics in general. Kisses I can write, but ass play? nah. It probably won't be graphic but i definitely want them to get their rocks off at some point *shrugs*. I'm also a filthy American who microwaves their tea water and might not get some of Newt's dialect right. This also is probably not entirely accurate to the 1930s but I'll try my best.

Newt didn’t know how any of this happened. One day he was traveling through America, visiting a friend. The next, he was sitting in an interrogation room with his life’s belongings strewn across the smooth reflective table in front of him.

It turns out that one loose niffler gets you arrested.

 

 

“Why are you here, Mr. Scamander?” the man opposite him scraped a chair out from the underside of the table, sitting down with his hands folded in front of him.

Newt looked up from his hands, which were handcuffed. He could feel the electric buzz of the magic that kept them tightly secured.

“Travel,” he answered curtly, if not a little rudely, and he winced inside with immediate regret as the other man’s brows furrowed. Newt thinks about Arizona, about visiting Frank, and about how many beautiful sketches he could have done if he were there. 

“Then what, might I ask,” the man waves his arms over the scattered supplies and various items on the table, “is all of this for?” He re-folds his hands and sets them down on the cool metal table and pauses for a moment. “And why do you have a bona fide zoo in your suitcase?”

The man tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

Newt’s eyes lower back down to his things on the table, and then back to his lap; his sketch pads were haphazardly tossed down, a few vines of charcoal were snapped and left stains on the surface, and the two aurors who had gone through everything had even had the audacity to rip out a few sketches. The room was silent apart from the monotonous whirr of the lights above the grated ceiling.

Newt let out a mild huff of indignance and shifted again in his seat, “If you must know what the supplies are for, I’m an artist,” he mumbled, “the creatures are rescues, they’re not going to hurt anyone.”

The man opposite him kept his eyebrows raised, and anxiety began to well up in the pit of his stomach as his ears turned red.

Another sigh echoed, this time in frustration, “Mr. Scamander, you’re incredibly lucky that your furry little friend here didn’t cause much more than a small disturbance,” he gestured over to the left side of the room where the niffler sat in a small animal cage. “You’re also lucky that there was no property damage and that we only had to obliviate-“

Just then the door to the interrogation room screeched open, and a small mousy woman burst into the room looking frantic.

“Mr. Graves I-“ she stopped in her tracks and suddenly noticed Newt, who now resembled a deer in headlights. “Oh. OH. Mr. Graves I am so sorry, but-”

“Get out with it, Goldstein.” Graves broke apart his interlocked hands and used one of them to rub his face in exasperation.

“The case…” she had approximately twelve manila folders in her arms, each one overflowing with papers, which were now starting to float to the ground around her feet one by one.

“Is it urgent?” Graves continued to massage his forehead with his left thumb and forefinger.

“I’m afraid so, sir,” she began, taking a few careful steps further into the room, “another auror has gone missing.”

Graves didn’t sigh this time, he just looked down at the table and then suddenly got up from his seat, both hands now splayed on the table.

“You,” he pointed his gaze directly at Newt. “You’re coming with me.”

He scraped his chair back under the table, walked quickly over to Newt, and lifted him up by the elbow. The sudden contact startled him and made his cheeks burn. Following the smaller auror, while dodging some flying papers that were falling out of her many folders, Graves escorted Newt through the sharp turns they took through the minimally decorated hallways until they reached the doorway to an open room which was bustling with activity. The top of the doorframe read _Department of Magical Law Enforcement._

At the very front of the room, slightly off to the left, sat a secretary. Newt watched as Graves wordlessly took a folder that was handed to him as he swept by. Several cluttered desks were unevenly placed throughout the large room, they looked as if they were once neatly arranged in rows, but based on the sheer amount of paperwork on top of them they were too far gone to be rearranged. Ten or twelve aurors were bustling around from desk to desk, talking excitedly and turning over paperwork. They all looked like they hadn’t slept in a few days. Newt grimaced at the pungent stench of burnt coffee seeping in from an adjacent office.

Auror Goldstein pulled the doorknob to a closed door, and Newt immediately noticed that this office was in heavy contrast to its surroundings. The hardwood floors didn’t have a scratch on them, the shelves along the walls were neatly organized, and the desk was spotless. The young auror rushed into the room and practically threw all of her notes and folders down onto the polished ebony desk. Newt swore that he could see Graves wince out of the corner of his eye.

“He hasn’t killed in over three years,” she was frantically sifting through dozens of slightly crumpled pieces of parchment with hand-written notes on them, “I don’t know why he suddenly decides to show up in America and kidnap _Mendoza_ of all people-“

“Tina,” Graves calmly closed his eyes for a beat, “relax.”

“I’m sorry sir, but… all we have is a name.” She paused, and threw up her hands in defeat. “And a handful of poorly handled no-maj witness accounts. We’re practically banking on nothing.”

Newt had a feeling, deep down in his gut. He knew that he was about to get roped into something that he really should not be involved with. He felt Graves’ eyes boring a hole into the side of his skull.

“I think,” Graves turned fully to him, “that we may have run into the perfect opportunity here.”

Newt felt his forehead start to get damp. _Oh no_.

“Mr. Scamander here is an artist, or so he’s told me.” Graves turned back to Tina with a slight smile and his hands in his pockets, “We could dig through the witness accounts in the pensieve and he might be able to give us a sketch.”

Newt looked up at him, slightly emboldened, “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t work for free.”

Graves took his hands out of his pockets and gestured to Newt’s hands as if to ask him to lift them up. Newt did so very cautiously, and Graves waved his hand over the cuffs and they unlocked and vanished.

“Then we’ll commission you for your work,” he stated curtly, “I’ve looked through some of your sketches and I’m quite confident that you can provide us what we need. All of your confiscated supplies will be returned, of course, and any additional supplies and housing will be provided.”

Newt stood rooted to the spot, and couldn’t help but question if this was really an opportunity that garnered his attention. Living out of a suitcase was of course not ideal, and the idea of new art supplies and a comfortable bed to sleep in was drawing him in.

“I-“ he stuttered for a moment, “Only if my creatures are returned safely and unharmed.”

“Of course.” Graves turned back to the smaller auror behind the desk and gestured a hand in her direction, “This is Tina Goldstein, an auror in my department. You’ll primarily be working with her on this case. I’m also afraid I haven’t properly introduced myself.”

Graves had his hands in his pockets again and looked back over at Newt. “Percival Graves, head of magical security. I do apologize for arresting you.”

At that, Graves had a slight crook to the corner of his mouth. Newt’s heart rate quickened, he knew he was in for some trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [here's my tumblr](http://geothebio.tumblr.com) if that's your thing, i also do art and stuff. the title of the fic and names of the chapters are the names of various drawing/painting techniques. i'm not paying thousands of dollars to art school for nothing y'all
> 
> i have no idea how frequently i'll update, i'm currently on summer break, so maybe once a week?


	2. Chiaroscuro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not entirely sure there will be an update next weekend and the weekend after, i'm preparing for a comic con on the 19th and i need to focus all my efforts on that! i might just write a few chapters ahead of time and queue them, i'm not sure. anywho, enjoy my trash. i'm also just warning you that this is going to be....one HELL of a slow burn. buckle up, kids

Newt wrung his wrists anxiously. The remnants of the magic the handcuffs were bound with still tingled slightly; not entirely unpleasant, but enough to keep his nerves wired and on high alert. He watched as the director smoothly ushered Tina away from the chair of his desk and sat down. He desperately wanted something to fidget with, but all of his pocket sketchbooks had been confiscated.

"So," Graves said as he turned to Tina in his chair, "What do we know so far?"

"Well," she started, a bit out of breath, "We know an auror has been kidnapped. That's about it. We don't know when or where he was taken, but Grindelwald certainly didn't forget to leave us his calling card."

She pulled out something from one of the folders, a small piece of parchment. It was slightly water damaged, had what appeared to be a small bloodstain, and had a strange jagged symbol scratched in ink directly in the center. Newt silently thought to himself that a notorious wanted murderer and dark wizard could have at least taken the effort to fix his wobbly linework. He was snapped out of his own thoughts when he heard a very audible sigh.

Graves turned to Newt once again, "You've heard of Grindelwald, yes?"

"Y-yes, but... only in passing. I've seen his name in the Daily Prophet on more than one occasion," Newt said.

"The only solid evidence we have is a name. And _that_ only came from one -now dead- informant." Graves had his hands folded in front of him again. "Our last resort is to recover two decade-old witness testimonies from down in Evidence to see if we can put a face to the name."

Newt's urge to fidget was amplified by twelve. His nails were already bitten down to the nubs from years of anxiety and bad habits, but he started to pick at them anyway. He felt Graves' eyes on him again.

"Tina," Graves said, not breaking his sight line on Newt, "go down and make sure Evidence knows we're coming, have them dig up those witness reports."

"Yes, sir." With a curt nod she rushed out of the room in the direction of the elevator.

One of Newt's nails was starting to bleed.

"Scamander." The director's eyes were still firmly locked in his direction as he leaned back in his seat, placing his still folded hands just below his chest, "Why were you so keen on withholding information from me back there?"

"I-um," he paused slightly, "I like to keep to myself, mostly."

Newt smiled at the ground slightly, but it was an uncomfortable smile. The man's presence didn't _intimidate_ him, but something about him felt... odd. His entire aesthetic was intriguing, but Newt couldn't place it as to why. The sheer mystery of the man made him uneasy.

Graves' mouth twitched into a smirk again, "It's people like that who concern me the most. It's always the quite ones."

"I haven't committed any crimes, if you're inquiring," he said, slightly offended at the veiled accusation. He then stopped mid-sentence. "Although some of the creatures in my case could be... considered illegal in _this_ country. And many others."

Graves waved a hand, "I don't care about that, it’s all sorted, just as long as none of them get out. What I'm more interested in is this," he pulled one of Newt's pocket sketchbooks out of the interior breast pocket of his blazer and waved it in the air. “These drawings are very impressive, you're an artist by profession?”

“I-, y-yes,” he said, not looking at the floor anymore, “Those are only just studies, I keep those notebooks in my pockets when I travel.”

“Hm,” the director hummed, and ran the faded cover of the small leather sketch pad between his fingers. 

Just then Tina ran back into the room, sounding very out of breath. "Sir, they're ready for us." She had only been gone for around five minutes. Newt wondered if she had sprinted the entire journey.

"Excellent." Graves promptly pushed himself out of his seat and signaled Newt to follow him as he deftly followed Tina to the elevator.

Newt had been to the Ministry of Magic before. He had visited with Theseus once to hang a painting he had given him as a gift for earning a promotion within his department. MACUSA was entirely different than the Ministry. Everything was so...industrial. It was strange, and that only drew him in more. He desperately wanted his sketchbooks back. The loud screech of the grated elevator doors jolted him out of his thoughts and he could have sworn he felt a hand on his back as he was ushered into the elevator.  They were greeted by a stocky house elf who was dressed similarly to a hotel concierge and a frazzled looking auror. 

"Where to?" the house elf said in a gravely deep voice, much deeper than Newt was expecting.

"Criminal Investigations Department, floor twelve," Graves replied. They only had to go down four or five floors. Newt suddenly found it odd that they didn't just apparate there. The elevator moved and functioned just like a regular muggle elevator. He pondered on the thought of asking why they didn't apparate down there, but he figured that his question was best left unanswered.

The elevator ground to a halt as they reached their destination, and Newt felt the gentle hand on his back once again as the caged door of the elevator screeched open and he was led out onto the dark marbled flooring. Tina and the unknown auror quickly stepped in front of the pair to hurriedly guide them in the correct direction.

"We're lucky that we've kept these reports in evidence as long as we have," the auror said, "The only reason we decided to keep them around was because Grindelwald's name is attached to the files."

"Auror Abraham was kind enough to dust off the pencieve for us," Tina turned back to Newt as they were walking and smiled at him.

Abraham led them to an office door and guided them inside. It was cramped, and stacked to the ceiling with metal filing cabinets. A few of them floated open as enchanted paper mice scurried off with a few pieces of paper. The auror stopped as he reached one drawer, opened it, and pulled out two small glass vials full of a shimmering silver liquid. They then moved to the back of the room to an open broom closet, which had been completely torn apart except for an old metal basin sitting atop another shorter filing cabinet. Newt figured that economical storage wasn't their forte.

"These are the witness reports," Abraham held up the two vials and turned to Newt, "think you can figure out a face?"

"As long as the descriptions are detailed enough, yes," Newt replied.

"I'll be accompanying you within the first memory," Graves said cooly, "to make sure everything goes alright. Then I'll leave you to your work."

Auror Abraham uncorked one vial and poured it into the basin. The liquid started to glow and slightly swirl, and Newt could see the image of a very familiar interrogation room start to form on the surface. Graves beckoned a hand toward the basin to signal that Newt go in first. He knew how to use a pencieve, Dumbledore had let him use one once while back at Hogwarts. Newt stuck his head in face first and felt a sensation very familiar to apparation. His stomach dropped and he felt like he was being extruded through a pasta machine. Very suddenly, he was standing next to a weeping woman, with an auror he didn't recognize sitting across from her. Newt instinctively took a few steps backward.

"Only we can see them," Graves startled him slightly, appearing to his right. "they can't see us at all." Graves then handed him one of his graphite pencils and his small sketchbook, signaling him to begin to take notes.

Newt turned back to the crying woman and the unknown auror and began to listen.

"Miss," the auror began incredulously, "I'm going to need to ask you exactly what you saw this evening. Start from the beginning."

"I- I was t-taking a walk," the woman struggled to get words out in between sobs, but began to sound slightly more coherent as she went on, "and i s-saw man out of the corner of my eye. In an alley. H-he was talking to another man and there was a flash, and the other man was dead. I don't remember a-anything between then and being here now."

"Can you describe the man you saw who killed the other?" the auror inquired. Newt noticed that this auror wasn't taking any notes at all. Their bookkeeping must not have been top-tier back then either.

"H-he wasn't tall. He was stocky but gaunt. Light skin. Blonde." Newt was slightly irritated at this. _This could be anyone!_ He listened to her continue _._ "H-he sounded northern European, he had an accent...and one eye was different than the other." 

Now _this_ was interesting. Just as his pencil stopped scratching on his paper he felt a hand tug him up and out of the pencieve. He was standing in the broom closet again, with Graves. He had good information, but it still wasn't enough. Abraham wordlessly used his wand to swirl the previous memory up and back into its vial, and he poured the next in. Newt moved in without instruction.

This interview was nearly identical to the previous, except this witness was able to give specific facial details. Newt could see the face in his mind, and by the time he exited the pencieve for the second time, he was desperate to sketch it down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> newt is salty about being arrested and is the ultimate art critic. get dunked on, grindelwald


	3. Sgraffito

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not updating for a couple weeks, i had work stuff to do and i hit a huge writer's block! sorry this chapter is a tad short, things are gonna start kicking off maybe. again, this is one slow-ass burn.

Newt felt the newly familiar pull of a hand on the back of his collar, and he shut his eyes until he felt the solidity of the flooring pushing up against the soles of his feet. He took a deep breath while once again trying to regain his footing and looked over at the Director and the two aurors.

"Well," Tina started, "you think you can get a face?"

Newt looked down at his notes, "Yes, but I'll need the night to get a rough penciled in. Any more detail would take much more time."

"All we need for now is a rough sketch," Graves chimed in from back behind Newt, "just enough to form a recognizable face."

"I-I think I can do that," Newt gave a shy smile to the floor, fidgeting with the spine of his small notebook.

"Excellent," Graves flashed his teeth, "Tina will help you with your temporary housing arrangement." 

The director nodded at Tina before he gracefully swept out of the room with his hands in his pockets.

"Come with me," Tina threw a short glance over at him before she led him in the direction from where they had entered. She led him through the minimally decorated hallways and back to the Department of Magical Security and towards another office off to the side of the main work area, presumably her office. Newt could see that Graves was already back at his desk, filling out what he assumed was paperwork. He could have sworn he saw a small smile when he glanced up at him.

"Alright," Tina breathed, "You'll be staying with my sister and I, we have a spare bedroom that we've mostly been using to store spare clothing. I may have to smuggle you in, though. No men allowed in the building,"

She then walked over to her desk and picked up a cardboard box and handed it to Newt, "Your suitcase, your supplies, and your...animals," she looked back down into the box, "should all be in here. Nothing should have been tampered with too badly.

Newt took his suitcase back out of the box, holding it to his chest protectively, "T-thank you. I shouldn't be too much trouble... I hope."

"Great!" Tina seemed somewhat relieved, Newt was slightly offended that she might have thought of him as some sort of deadly criminal. "Unfortunately, you'll have to wait until the work day is over, and then we can apparate back together. There's a bench on the other side of the door." 

She gestured for him to leave and Newt did as she said, sitting down on the bench and still clutching onto his case for dear life as her door closed behind him. He didn't know what time it was, he could have been in the pencieve for hours. It turns out that there was around four hours left until Tina could leave work. Newt still had his sketchbook and a lead pencil, so he did a few sketched of some interesting people he saw floating by. One was of a man with the tallest top hat he had ever seen. Another was a person with dark skin and bright blue eyes, braids trailing down to the floor, and the shiniest nose ring he had ever seen. The people here were much different than those at the ministry, and he appreciated it.

Newt felt like he had been sitting on that bench for thirty years -his bottom was starting to get a bit numb- when the door to Tina's office finally opened and she stepped out in a long grey overcoat and a hat. "Ready to go?" she inquired, shutting the door behind her with a leather folder clasped in her other hand.

"Y-yes," Newt smiled down at the floor again as he stood up. He followed Tina out of the department, down more bland hallways, into the elevator, and down and out into the lavishly golden foyer. He noticed that the clock's arm on the threat level clock read "Level 3- High Alert". She led him out of the swinging doors at the front and the crisp winter air hit him for the first time since he had been arrested. His exhaustion was threatening to catch up with him. He suddenly felt his arm being pulled into an alley and he felt the tug of apparation, only to wind up in an even tighter alleyway. Tina led him out and up to the front of an apartment building. She motioned for him to be quiet as she opened the front door, and they both crept up about three flights of stairs together until they reached Tina's apartment.

The first thing that absolutely smacked him in the face was the scent of freshly baked bread. He hadn't smelt that since he lived back home with his brother and their parents. "Oh! Tinnie, you're home!" A gentile feminine voice chirped up from the room adjacent to the kitchen, and Newt suddenly locked eyes with a blonde woman in a rather provocative slip dress. "Oh, hello sweetie. Tina, who is _this_?" She placed great emphasis on the last word with a wide grin, like she wanted to sit down and hear Newt's entire life from start to finish.

"Queenie, this is Newt," she gestured from one to the other, "Newt, this is Queenie, my sister." Tina turned back to Newt. "Newt is consulting with us on the Grindelwald case, he's an artist. He'll be giving a face to all of this...mess."

Newt though to himself that _consulting_ might be putting it lightly. If anything, he was vaguely threatened into doing this. Work was work, though, and he was starting to warm up to MACUSA and its people. If anything, he would come out of this with some incredibly diverse models to work into his drawings.

"Ooh, well you probably have a lot of work to do, hun." In the time Newt wasn't looking, Queenie had put on a new dress entirely. "Show him to his room, Tinnie, and I'll bring him dinner when it's time." She waved them away from the kitchen and Tina started to lead Newt across the living area. 

The apartment wasn't luxurious, by any means. He could tell that Queenie did the majority of the decorating, however. Some colorful string lights even adorned the tops of the walls, he guessed that these were a Christmas decoration. He also noticed that a few of the light fittings had been replaced by some rather intense kewpie baby glass bulbs.

"Welcome to your temporary home," Tina said sarcastically while waving her hand into the room. The room was rather small, less than 100 square feet. The only things in the room were a neatly made (and slightly dusty) bed, a desk, and a dozen or so storage boxes stacked over by the closet. "Sorry for the boxes, but we don't have anywhere else to put them."

"Oh, I don't mind," Newt said, putting his case down by the side of the bed and smiling, "I don't take up much space anyway."

"Alright, I'll leave you to it. Queenie will be in later with food." she smiled back at him and closed the door behind her as she left the room.

As Newt was finally left alone by himself in silence, he started to notice smaller details about the room. There was a faint ticking noise coming from one of the walls, indicating that there was probably a clock somewhere. The small lamp on the desk was buzzing slightly, it was probably about to burn out. Newt decided to get to work, and flipped a little switch on his suitcase to open up a little compartment -one that was shallow and normal and didn't feature a rather large undetectable expansion charm. All of his supplies were neatly packed, but out of order from where he had left them the day before. The few pieces of charcoal that were smashed during his arrest were loosely floating around, which slightly annoyed him.

He pulled out one of his trusty sketchbooks, one of the nicer ones with sturdier paper, and a few graphite pencils of varying shades. Even though it had been hours, the face was still fresh in his mind. Pale skin, sharp cheekbones, prominent nose. He must have spent the rest of the afternoon into the late night just sculpting the face, at one point Queenie had come in and dropped a tray of food on the foot of the bed, but he was too engrossed in his work to notice. by the time he finally had pencilled in the man's thin spiked hair and added a neck and shoulders, it was into the very early morning. Exhaustion had suddenly hit Newt like a tonne of bricks, and before he knew it he had drifted off with his notebook still in his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will probably never be beta'd and i was listening to a podcast (mbmbam if you're wondering) while writing this so there may be a couple of Choice Grammatical Goofs in here. also in case you haven't noticed, newt tends to get distracted a lot and that's mostly me projecting lmao
> 
> in researching old-timey christmas lights, i happened to find these [horrifying babies](https://oldchristmastreelights.com/bills_site/1920-1930_page_4_files/Celluloid_Kewpie.jpg) and had to work them in


	4. Diptych

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs my grubby mitts together* finally some good one-on-one graves/newt interaction huehuehue
> 
> big meaty 2k chapter ahead! hopefully chapters will start getting a bit longer, i'm hoping to get this fic to around 20k

Newt jumped a mile out of his skin, out of one of the deepest sleeps of his entire life, when he heard Tina’s knuckles rapping on the door behind him. He suddenly realized that he had fallen asleep on his desk, and he silently thanked himself for not falling asleep on top his sketch from the night before.

“Newt, we gotta leave in an hour,” Tina called from the other side of the door, “Feel free to use our shower.”

He heard her walk back to the living area and he quickly gathered up his pencils, safely tucked his sketch away inside his notebook, and proceeded to take the coldest, fastest shower he’s had in quite a while. He had a makeshift shower down in his case (for emergencies), but he figured he’d take advantage of proper indoor plumbing while he could.

He dressed in record time, met Queenie in the kitchen, wolfed down some eggs and sausage quicker than he probably should have –he also remembered that he had forgotten to eat last night-, and followed Tina out of the apartment and into the tight alleyway from the day before.

Tina apparated them a bit further out than yesterday, this time they were about six blocks away from the building they were supposed to be in.

Tina had noticed that Newt was slightly confused at this and added under her breath, “We have to apparate further out so that we can blend in more with the No-Majs. They won’t notice us if we’ve been walking along side them for at least six blocks, it lets us enter our side of the building a little more discreetly.”

Newt hummed a noise of agreement. Getting used to the way wizards worked in this country wasn’t as difficult as he’d first thought, but the way they skirted around any sort of prolonged muggle interaction troubled him.

They went through the double doors to the Woolworth building, and they were instantly inside of the lavish foyer once again. Following Tina back to the elevator finally started to feel familiar rather than nerve-wracking, and the gate in front of them closed as the gears underneath them ground them up to their floor.

Newt was startled to find that Graves was already waiting for them just on the other side of the elevator when they exited.

“I assume you had good luck with your drawing?” he asked Newt, joining them on the walk over to Graves’ office and shutting the door behind all three of them once inside.

“Y-yes, I did,” Newt started to put his suitcase down on the desk and rifling through his notebook to pull out the sketch, “I hope that you’ll be able to use this to find who you’re looking for.”

He handed the sketch over to Graves, who paused to look very intently at it for a few seconds. Newt didn’t miss professional critiques at all, it always put a knot in his stomach to wait for approval.

“This is great,” Graves smiled as he lowered the paper from in front of his face, “Tina, take this over to the publication department and have them work on a proper wanted poster. Get them out ASAP.”

He turned to Tina, handed her the drawing, and she rushed back out of the office. Newt saw that she had also recruited a couple more aurors to trail behind her and help.

Graves turned back to Newt, “I’m sorry that we don’t have much more for you to do at the moment, all we can really do is wait. Here-”

Graves had pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to him, it was a neat roll of what appeared to be money. American money.

“Oh, no, I-“ Newt stammered.

“No, take it. We’re paying you for your time here,” he pushed the roll of bills into Newt’s hand, “and of course your talent. There should be around $150 in there, feel free to use it on whatever you like. I’ve also sent some runners to deliver some new art supplies to where you’ll be staying.”

“I- er. Thank you, Director Graves.” Newt stood there in shock with the money still in his now sweaty palm.

“Call me Percival, please.” He waved his hand as if to dismiss his honorific, “Let’s take a walk while Tina does her thing. You can leave your case here in my office, I’ll lock it up so no one meddles with it.”

“Oh, …alright.” Newt quickly turned back to his suitcase, stored the money away in a safe little pocket, and latched it securely.

Graves held the door open for him as he exited the office, and he closed and locked it with a wave of his hand. Wandless magic was supposed to be incredibly difficult to perform, Newt thought to himself that Graves must be an incredibly powerful wizard to use it so casually- and a polite one at that.

He followed beside Graves down to the lobby and out of the building, and out onto the sidewalk. It was December, but there wasn’t quite snow on the ground yet, it was more of a light frost than anything. Newt could see Graves’ breath in the air as he exhaled, he was glad that he packed his warm wool coat on this trip. His coat was a tad bright compared to the duller, more conservative clothing that Americans seem to prefer, and he feels like he’s sticking out like a sore thumb. He didn’t realize that he had been staring at Graves’ mouth for far too long until it was too late.

“So,” Graves started, “You’re quite artistically inclined.”

“…So I’ve been told,” Newt’s eyes were now aimed straight ahead of him.

“Within good reason.” Graves was walking slow and leisurely, with his hands in his pockets, “You said you painted too? I’m interested to know the kinds of things you paint.”

“Well,” Newt said, “I mostly draw and paint from nature. Plants, animals, both non-magical and magical alike. But sometimes I draw humans too.”

“Hm,” Graves hummed in agreement, “What made you want to go into art, if it’s appropriate for me to ask?”

“No, no, it’s not inappropriate, people ask all the time,” Newt chose his next words carefully, he didn’t want to give too much about himself away just yet, “I’ve…always had an interest in it. I figured that if I was good at it, I might as well make a living off of it.”

Graves chuckled, “Makes sense. Sounds exactly why I went into my department. 

An awkward pause followed this. Well, it wasn’t entirely awkward. There was enough white noise from the city to drown out the silence. Newt listened to a conversation a couple was having as they walked past them. They were saying something about remembering to buy food for their small dogs. Newt liked dogs.

“What exactly…does your department _do_? Besides arresting artists,” Newt almost immediately regretted adding that last part.

Graves actually _laughed_ at that. Newt didn’t think it was all that funny, but the man did have a nice laugh.

“Well,” Graves said, still smiling, “In short, we ensure the safety of all magical human beings in the United States. As for specifics: Some things we do include accident cleanup, damage control-usually from said accident, and obliviation.”

“Hm.” Somehow Newt doubted that ‘all’ included squibs and muggle-borns. There were barely any rights for them in England (which was absurd!), based on the things he’s observed here so far he had difficulty believing that anyone but a pure-blood had full and inclusive rights here. He felt Graves’ gaze on him once more.

“I can’t help but to notice that you seem…distant,” Graves said softly.

“I-I’m sorry. Talking to…people isn’t exactly something I’m good at,” Newt replied.

“No, don’t apologize,” Graves said with another laugh, “That’s quite alright. Not everyone is suited for public interaction.” Graves pulled a shiny silver pocket watch (Newt took a mental note to remember to keep the niffler away from that one) out of his vest and checked the time, “We should be getting back, Tina’s probably got something for us.”

Newt never even realized how long they had been gone. He pulled out his own pocket watch (which he suddenly remembered he needed to replace the battery on) and saw that it had been nearly 45 minutes since they had left.

Graves continued to walk at the same leisurely pace that they had started at, and they both spent the 45 walk minute back in complete silence, both listening to the sounds of the city. Even though this place was in a constant state of business, the noise somewhat relaxed Newt. It reminded him a little bit of London. New York was smellier, though.

They reached their building and did the repetitive walk through the foyer and up the elevator. However, instead of making a beeline to his office, Graves took a detour into what appeared to be a small cafeteria.

“You want some coffee?” he asked, grabbing a small paper cup and reaching for the pot. It still smelled a little burnt.

“No thank you, I much prefer tea.” Newt didn’t have a _distaste_ for coffee, he quite liked it when enough cream and sugar was added. _This_ coffee, though, smelled like it might burn a hole through his stomach entirely, so he decided to play it safe and avoid it.

“Suit yourself,” Graves took a sip of his coffee and continued walking, this time walking down past his office and down a hallway. He rapped on an unfamiliar door twice with the knuckle of his index finger and went inside, not waiting for an answer. “Goldstein, you got anything yet?”

“Somewhat-“ Tina pulled out a piece of steaming hot parchment from a rather large printing press. The other auror operating it looked concerningly sweaty. “Though to my credit, you’ve only been gone an hour and a half. Take a look.”

She handed the parchment to Graves, who held it so that both he and Newt could look at it more closely. The image of Newt’s sketch was plastered directly in the middle, printed boldly in black ink, and taking up about a third of the paper. The top third boasted the word ‘ **WANTED** ’ in large capital letters, and the name ‘Gellert Grindelwald’ was printed in slightly smaller and less bold font below it. The bottom third was a bit more ominous. Newt only skimmed this part, but the parts he did catch read something along the lines of ‘dangerous dark wizard’ and ‘suspected of murder and kidnapping’.

“This’ll do for now,” Graves said, handing the paper back to Tina, “Get them pasted all over the city- be sure to include a _magical eyes only_ charm so we don’t alarm the rest of the population. Send some agents to paste them in the speak-easies as well. Newt, I can’t thank you enough, if you hadn’t done this this case wouldn’t have gone any further.”

“You’re very welcome, I suppose,” Newt was staring at the floor again, not wanting to make eye contact.

Graves turned back to Tina again, “Now all we have to do is play the waiting game. Once you’re done with the poster boys I need you and a team of aurors to start combing the streets, see if you can draw him out yourself. I have some paperwork to finish but Newt, feel free to enter and exit the building as you wish. You can stay here, take your case and go home for the night, or take a walk, just don’t get arrested.” He pointed a jokingly accusatory finger at Newt as he exited the room with his coffee in hand.

Newt had half a mind to be offended but knowing his luck, he would accidentally rob a bank or something. He decided to go back and get his case, and he did exactly that. Graves wasn’t back in his office quite yet, but Newt did find what appeared to be an ID card (presumably so that he could get back into the building tomorrow) on top of his suitcase. Of course they used his mug shot as his picture, great. Newt wanted nothing more than to go back to his temporary home and sleep for the rest of his life.

On his walk back, something still felt a bit off, but by the time he reached the stoop of Tina’s apartment building he still hadn’t put his finger on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you were wondering, $150 USD in 1936 is worth around $2500 USD today. always pay your artists. i also headcanon that graves has a bit more of a new york accent than was presented in the movie. i'm also going to flip-flop around between "muggle" and "no-maj", usually i'll only use 'muggle' when it's Newt's thought process
> 
> also yes i am very aware that my update schedule is not consistent and i've accepted it
> 
> *whispers* smooching will happen soon i promise


	5. Pentimento

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that's going to bump up the rating! It's not what you think. No sexy times yet, unfortunately. Some brief graphic depictions of death/violence/gore ahead. Here ye be warned.
> 
> This chapter is a bit meatier than the others, hence why it took me so long to write, so I'm sorry for not updating in a while sdkjfh

Newt woke up face first in the sleek mahogany of the work desk to the sound of someone tinkering around in the kitchen. Probably Queenie. He had no recollection of what he did last night or why he fell asleep at the desk again. He took a quick inventory of the small room and could piece it together pretty easily. More graphite pencils and their respective shavings littered the table, along with a couple of crumpled up pieces of drawing paper.

He couldn’t stop drawing that face; it was like it was plastered to the back of both of his eyelids. There was something about it, something that was haunting him, and he couldn’t place his finger on it. Something about this whole ordeal felt wrong, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it fascinating to watch unfold, if only from the sidelines.

Another thing that fascinated him was how American magical law enforcement seemed to work. They were so much more... mechanical about they way they handled things here. He found British wizards and their law practices to be much more organic –and polite. However, when thinking on it for a few more moments, Director Graves seemed much different than his colleagues. The rest of them seem stiff, stone-faced, and driven by nothing other than sheer work ethic. Even Tina seemed to lean that way; not to say that she was unfriendly, because she’s not. She’s just devoted, and Newt looked fondly upon her for that.

Percival Graves is an enigma. Newt knows little to nothing about him; their first interaction was Newt getting arrested, and yet the other man felt enough trust for him to tell him to call him by his first name, even though every other auror and MACUSA employee only called him by his honorific and surname.

Newt was suddenly snapped out of his (very intrusive) thoughts by the sound of a dish breaking. He realized that he was still slouching onto the desk with his head rested on his arms, so he decided to get up and put away his supplies. Once he was done, he poked his head out to see what all the ruckus was in the kitchen.

Queenie heard the door open and turned around, “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry to wake you. I broke a teacup,” she smiled and held up a small shard from the dustpan hovering in front of her.

“Oh, no, it’s quite alright,” he looked around the kitchen, “Where’s Tina gone?”

“Oh! She had to leave early to go take care of some stuff for Mr. Graves,” she plunked the shard of ceramic back into the dustpan as a disembodied broom began to sweep, “she said that you could make it down there on your own. I was just about to head out, though, so you can walk with me!”

“Alright, just…” he looked down at his filthy charcoal stained shirt, “let me change first.”

Queenie smiled again and shooed him off. Newt took another speedy shower, put on a fresh shirt (he was glad that he kept quite a lot of spare clean shirts down in his case), fed all the creatures, gathered his case, and exited his room to be greeted by a fully ready –and very pink- Queenie.

She handed him a small wrapped parcel, “Breakfast to go,” she winked and led him out the front door of the apartment and down the steps to the stoop.

“Would you rather apparate or just walk?” Queenie asked brightly, her small heels clicking against the concrete sidewalks.

“I think I’d rather just walk,” Newt didn’t think his stomach could take apparating this soon after waking up. He paused for a moment before adding, “Queenie, I- I want to thank you and Tina for letting me stay with you. I have yet to thanks Tina, and I always feel bad for taking up space in someone’s home… but I want to let you know that I’m incredibly grateful.”

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t need to thank us,” she grinned sweetly, “but it’s lovely of you to say that. Tinnie will appreciate it too. We like having you around, Newt.”

Newt smiled back as they continued walking. The weather wasn’t too chilly, but there was definitely a nip in the air. It was certainly cold enough to spit a few flakes of snow, though. The soft sound of his case thumping against his leg as he walked synced with the clicking of Queenie’s heels and he got lost in the sound of it all. The scent of freshly baked bread hung in the air as they passed a bakery, Newt thought to himself that he might stop in there after work, the mooncalves loved to eat little nibbles of puffed pastry.

New York City was starting to grow on him, as much as he hated it. Well, he didn’t _really_ hate it. Sure, he wasn’t used to the way people spoke and behaved, but He got lost in the sounds and smells of the city and zoned out, they reached the front face of the Woolworth building in no time. He realized that he still hadn’t eaten, so he took the small bundle of food out of his pocket –a croissant with a sausage in the middle- and started to wolf it down as he and Queenie stepped through the doors and into the lower lobby.

The first thing he noticed as he stepped in was that the threat level clock was now positioned at “Level 4- Danger”. That was odd. What could have possibly happened in less than a day to warrant this kind of response? Newt also noticed that up at the top of the large flight of stairs –on the balcony that was level with the clock- a semi-large group of aurors were stood around one another and had very serious expressions on their faces. One such auror included Percival Graves.

Newt threw his wrapper in a nearby trash bin and he and Queenie began walking up the stairs towards the group. Everyone seemed to be a bit frantic today; he spotted multiple aurors absolutely _bolting_ up the staircase. When they reached the top, Queenie patted him on the shoulder and went off in the direction of her desk, leaving Newt alone at the top of the stairs.

Graves must have spotted the bright blue of Newt’s coat, and parted from the group to head straight in his direction.

“Newt, we have a problem,” Graves said. He had taken off his overcoat and blazer, now only in his vest and white shirt. He must have gotten overheated from running around.

“What’s happened? Everyone here seems a bit… frazzled all of a sudden,” Newt asked quietly, as to not disturb the groups of aurors conversing with one another.

Graves rubbed a palm to his forehead, “Frazzled is an understatement. Putting up those posters certainly gave us an almost immediate reaction.”

“What do you mean?” Newt was slightly confused. Another thing that bothered him about MACUSA was that everything was so vague.

“We had four sightings last night alone. _Four_. Only three of them were properly reported by the witnesses, the fourth…wasn’t so lucky,” Graves had moved Newt away from the opening of the staircase and towards a railing further away from the larger group of people, “It’s been less than twenty-four hours since we put those posters up and an auror is already dead.”

Graves was glaring now, off the edge of the balcony and at no one in particular.

He continued, “We expected a response, though, so we’re not surprised. We actually thought it would be a bit more extreme than… just _one_ auror.”

Newt’s thoughts were having a hard time keeping up with the current amount of information being shoved into his brain. This must have been why Tina had to leave early. Silence hung in between them.

“What exactly… happened?” Newt asked cautiously.

Graves let out a long sigh, “We sent out some aurors to go hang up the posters, the first three or four locations they managed to get through no problem,” he folded his hands as he rested his elbows on the edge of the balcony, “it was a speakeasy not to far down from here where they had a problem. The Blind Pig. By the time they got over there the bartender had three different wizards complaining about strange activity and that’s where everything kicked off. Poor bastard had his eyes gouged out.”

Newt had absolutely no problem with visualization, and he really did _not_ want to know how that could have happened. Just then, every auror in the lobby seemed to have been talking at once. A loud murmur spread across the room and everyone was looking towards the bottom of the staircase. Newt could _feel_ the anxiety hanging in the air; _something_ was about to happen and he knew that it couldn’t be good.

“The _hell_ is going on down there?” Graves looked just about as confused as Newt was, and so was the small gaggle of aurors to the other side of them.

The threat level clock was now pointed to **Level 8: Emergency**.

Suddenly, there was a commotion from down below. At the bottom of the staircase, there was a small group of aurors, and there was someone in the center of them that was causing a scene. Newt couldn’t process what was happening fast enough, Graves seemed to catch on faster than he could because he could because all of a sudden his hand grabbed hold of his forearm. The man in the center of the group was yelling, and an auror was trying to grab ahold of him.

The auror wasn’t fast enough, because Newt saw an arm rise above the crowd with a gnarly and jagged looking wand gripped in its hand. Nobody in the lobby could react before a white-hot light shot out of the wand and hit the ceiling with a bang. The second that the ceiling exploded, it seemed like everything happened in slow motion. Newt didn’t know he was on the ground until the palms of his hands started hurting. He also realized that there were two very strong arms wrapped around his middle, holding him down.

His ears were ringing; he couldn’t tell if it was from the sound of the blast or from people screaming. It felt like his brain was puling inside of his skull, his vision was blurred, and the only thing he could hear was the sound of his own breathing.

 

“ _Newt!_ ” he heard the echo of his name from behind him, and all the sound came rushing into his ears at once. The arms that were around his middle gave way and Graves was shaking him awake; he must have blacked out.

The lobby was quiet now, apart from the sounds of a few people groaning in pain and pebbles of marble falling from the gaping hole in the ceiling. Newt’s vision slowly tilted back into focus, and he wished it hadn’t.

The staircase was no longer intact, and a large pile of rubble sat at where the bottom should have been. Blood was smeared all around the pile, and the sight of some of the unidentified chunks sticking out of it made his stomach churn. Suddenly snapping back to reality, he looked down at himself and at his hands- everything was still there. He propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at himself; his coat was covered in dust and a few large dark stains, presumably blood. His right leg ached, and there was a large bloodstain just below his knee.

He looked over at Graves, who was also covered in blood. His left arm had a nasty gash from wrist to elbow; he must have stained Newt’s coat when he grabbed on to him.

“Are you alright?” Graved panted, holding on to the wound on his arm to try and stop the bleeding.

“I could ask the same,” Newt breathed out in no louder than a low whisper. He was in the middle of what could have been one of the calmest panic attacks of his life, weirdly.

Graves breathed out a huff of laughter, “I’ve seen much worse, trust me. Can you stand up?”

“I- I think,” Newt looked back down at his leg again, “My leg hurts a bit, but I don’t think anything is broken.”

He hauled himself up from his elbows to his palms, and finally up on his feet. The sudden shift in gravity caused his head to pulse, and he swayed a little, reaching for the handrail of the balcony. There was no handrail –not any more- and he discovered that very quickly as Graves’ hands grabbed the square of his back to pull him back in.

“Woah, woah, slow down,” Graves had his hands on his shoulders now, “we need to get to the medical ward.”

Newt may have been injured and vulnerable, but he was still flustered.

Graves glanced around for any sign of help, and by some sort of miracle a group of aurors appeared from the top of the staircase connected to the balcony level above them, wands drawn. Tina happened to be among them.

“Mercy _Lewis_ , Mr. Graves,” she was rushing down the stairs with the rest of the aurors who were now spreading out to reach others who were injured, “what _happened_ down here? We heard it from all the way up in Publication!”

“I’ll explain once we get medical attention, Tina,” he began to pull Newt along with him by the shoulder, “help us get upstairs.”

She had just now noticed that Newt was with him and her eyes got inhumanly wide. She –slowly but surely- escorted them over to an open elevator, which was halfway occupied by a stretcher covered in a bloodstained white sheet, and they rode it up to floor five. 

 

They stepped out onto pristine white tile, and the strong smell of disinfectant hit Newt like a truck. Four nurses immediately rushed over to them, splitting off into pairs, each pair taking one of them. The two nurses walked Newt over to a nearby bed and took Graves over to one five or six beds away. His leg had a two-inch long gash in it, thankfully no shrapnel, and needed twelve stitches. He also had one or two to a small cut on his right eyebrow, which he honestly never noticed.

The nurses hooked him to an IV and told him to stay put. He was genuinely glad for the brief bed rest, but he was anxious about Graves. They took a bit longer to stitch up his arm –obviously, since it was a much bigger wound than what Newt had suffered- but now Graves was surrounded by some familiar aurors from his department and they were talking very low.

Newt couldn’t hear what they were saying for a while but things got a little more hectic when a tall dark skinned woman, wearing a head wrap and a long gold-embroidered robe burst through the elevator doors and through the hospital doorframe. She headed straight for Graves’ bed.

“Graves, you want to tell me exactly _what_ is going on?” the aurors surrounding his bed cleared a path for her. She paused for a moment before lowering her voice, “is this Grindelwald?”

“…We think so, yes,” Graves itched slightly at the bandages on his arm, “it’s more than just a coincidence that less than a day after one of ours gets killed, there’s suddenly an attack on _us_." 

“Madame President,” Tina pipes up, “we’re almost sure it was one of his supporters. His calling card was tattooed on the forearm of the man we identified as the attacker.” 

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, “I’ll send word to what’s remaining of Security to shut the entire building down, no one goes in or out until we get this mess sorted.” She pointed at Graves who nodded in response as she walked away, finally passing back through the elevator and disappearing behind its gates.

The group of aurors went back to chattering amongst themselves, which turned into white noise as Newt drifted off to an anxious and restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was listening to a story about Combat Camels used during the civil war while i was writing this. no idea how i stumbled onto that part of youtube but here i am. seriously look it up it's really interesting
> 
> and if you've been keeping up with googling the definitions of my chapter titles, you can get an idea of what's in store for the plot (kind of- some definitions i shorthanded a bit)
> 
> also, i'm trying to figure out a good time to update?? lately i've only been updating late at night because...that's the only time i write?? please let me know if you'd rather i update in the morning/early afternoon or something because i'm still not familiar with the peak analytic times on this platform oops


	6. Impasto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW i'm so sorry that this chapter took so long
> 
> i took a vacation back in june and honestly completely forgot about this fic lmao
> 
> anyway, i'm trying to get back on track to continuing this and hopefully finishing it (eventually)!

The sudden sensation of falling jolted Newt out of his sleep. The jolt definitely did not do anything to help his pain; it felt as if every one of his muscles was on fire. He stared up at the bright ceiling and the lights above him made his brain pulse inside of his skull. He somehow managed to prop himself up onto one of his elbows and his stomach jolted with nausea. A voice to his left startled him.

 “Hey, take it slow,” it was Graves. He was sitting in a chair flipping through a manila folder filled with paperwork.

 “Not to sound crass, but I don’t think you’re in any better shape than I am,” Newt said.

 Graves chuckled softly, “I appreciate the concern, “ he flipped another page, “but the nurses here know what they’re doing. We should both be fully healed in about a week.”

 Newt huffed out a small laugh and then paused, “What are you going to do now?”

 “Well,” Graves shut his folder with a soft snap, “I talked with my aurors last night and we all agreed to send some people out to try and draw him in again. Based on what happened yesterday we expect he’ll throw more of his goons at us until he runs out of human shields.”

 Newt took a moment to observe the man as he paused to fiddle with the corner of his folder. The man might have taken the brunt of an explosion one day earlier, but he was wearing a freshly pressed suit vest and tie over a crisp white shirt. Even the sling his injured arm was in was in pristine condition. Newt admired his dedication to professionalism. He also didn’t mind the way he looked in a suit.

 Graves continued, “Newt,” he sighed, “I genuinely want to apologize for getting you into this mess. I never intended for you to get hurt.”

 The sudden moment of gentle sincerity caught Newt off guard, “I… suppose I knew the risks when I signed up. Getting involved with a case about a wanted and dangerous criminal isn’t exactly the safest job in the world. Plus I suppose I wanted the chance to do something… a little more exciting.”

 Graves raised his eyes and smiled, “Well, it’s certainly gotten a lot more exciting.”

 “A little _too_ exciting now,” Newt smiled and stared down at his injured leg. It may have just been all in his head, but he really was starting to feel better.

 Graves let slip another smile, changing the topic of conversation, “The case is still going forward, but,” he took a pause, “President Piquery won’t allow either of us to put in any more to this case until we’re both fully healed. Tina and my other aurors are trying to handle it until I can jump back in, thankfully. You’ve already done enough for us, I understand if you decide to move on to another endeavor.”

 Newt furrowed his brow, “No, no, I- I still want to help. I can’t explain why, but… something doesn’t seem right,” he continued, “and it’s not like I get all that many paying art opportunities anyway.”

 Graves looked confused, but continued, “Hm. Well, I’m glad you don’t feel pressured to stay,” he gingerly slid his folder underneath his chair and folded his arms over one another, “and you’re definitely right, something about all of this seems… fishy. I talked with Tina last night and she shares that feeling as well.”

 A tense silence hung between them for a few minutes as they both mulled over what was just said, the white noise of the hospital ward taking over the stagnant air. There were six other aurors who had been injured in yesterday’s incident, and they had been wheeled in, healed, and released all in the time it took Newt to get a solid eight hours of sleep. Wizarding med-wards were always a lot more efficient than Muggle hospitals. Newt knew that only from experience, after one incredibly unlucky night out in Scotland resulting in him getting hit by a car.

 The clicking of heels sounded from the hallway outside the arched entryway, and Tina appeared with a very worried looking Queenie in tow.

 Queenie piped up, “Oh, Newt, honey,” she rushed over to the side of his bed and laid a hand on his shoulder, “you’re hurt, you look awful!”

 “It’s… not as bad as Tina would have made it seem, actually,” Newt replied sheepishly.

 “I may have over exaggerated a tiny bit,” Tina chimed in from a few feet away. She looked over at Graves like she wanted to tell him something.

 “You have anything?” he picked up on her body language immediately.

 “Well, yes and no,” she sighed in resignation, “What we don’t have is an exact location on Grindelwald. What we _do_ have is a possible lead to where he and his goons have a base of operations.”

 Graves stood up from his seat, “You caught one of them?”

 “ _Two_ of them,” Tina smirked with waggling two of her fingers in the air.

 “Excellent,” Graves grinned, “Tina, meet me at the interrogation room. I might not be allowed to do anything but I still want to observe. Newt, are you okay to walk?”

 Newt sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side, gingerly testing his weight, “Yes, I think I’ll be alright.”

 “Good,” Graves said quickly, “I’m going to assume that you know the direction to my office by now, you can wait there while we grill these bastards.”

 Graves, Tina, and Queenie led themselves out of the medical ward with haste. Tina turned back to Newt right as they were exiting the entranceway, “Oh, and your case is also up in Graves’ office! It’s completely unharmed, apart from a few scuff marks, so don’t worry!”

 That suddenly reminded Newt that he had completely forgotten about his case. A short pang of anxiety hit him before Tina’s words had sunken in. The creatures are alright. His shed and the things inside of it may be a little rattled around (and he would probably have to replace some glass jars and potions) but that wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

 He gently put his whole weight onto his feet and stood up, the cold marble shocked the warm pads of his feet. He grabbed the socks and pair of shoes that was waiting for him on the small end table by the hospital bed and slipped them both on. He grabbed his coat and wand (also neatly folded on the table) and began to gingerly walk out.

 His leg wasn’t in all that much pain anymore, whatever potions the nurses gave him in his sleep were clearly working. Only a bit of joint pain still lingered, and it was just enough that it gave him a slight limp. He went to the elevator, stepped inside, and pressed the button for the floor he knew best. He noticed that there was no house elf attendant this time.

 In fact, the entire building seemed dead. When he stepped out of the elevator, the entire Department of Security was empty. There was no paperwork flying around, no paper mice carrying things through tubes, no nothing. Not even a single worried looking auror bustling about. It was incredibly unnerving.

 Newt stopped gawking at the empty floor and remembered that he had matters to attend to in his case. The creatures probably had not been fed since the night before and he felt incredibly guilty.

 He arrived at Graves’ office, and the door was shut. As he pulled down on the handle and pushed the door open he almost felt like he wasn’t supposed to be there. The sight of an empty office greeted him, except for his case, which was sitting atop the sleek desk once again. He quietly shut the door behind him, not wanting to disturb the silence.

He unlatched the case, stepped inside, and shut the lid as he was walking down the ladder; all a routine he was entirely used to. The shed below him was an absolute wreck. Glass was shattered everywhere, and everything that he had (to the best of his ability) neatly organized was strewn all over every possible surface. He carefully stepped through it, being sure to not get _too_ many glass shards in his shoes, and he opened the door and stepped out into his habitat.

 Thankfully he had prepared an extra day’s worth of food in advance, otherwise he would have spent hours trying to prepare everything with a case full of ravenous animals staring him down. He made the rounds, making sure everyone was fed with some extra love and care, and once he was done he finally turned his attention back to himself.

 His clothes were absolutely filthy. He was covered in all kinds of dust, soot, blood, and god knows what else. He carefully combed through his shed to find a spare change of clothes, and thankfully there was one. There was also an emergency shower in the case, in an unused habitat portion way in the back. He called it his “emergency” shower because the water pressure was abysmal and he only liked to use it if absolutely necessary. Still, despite the water pressure problem, a hot shower and fresh shirt and pants made him feel miles better than he did before.

 He did another round in the case once more, making sure everyone was placated and happy, and then headed back up and out of the case. When he popped his head out of his case, however, he was surprised to see Graves already back in the office, sitting atop the surface of the desk. He can’t have been gone more than a couple of hours, but then again, time usually tends to fly by down there.

He blinked down at Newt in mild surprise, “Everything alright down there?”

“Oh, yes, everyone’s fine,” Newt pulled his whole body out and latched the case shut, “Some broken glass in the shed, but otherwise completely unharmed.”

 “Good, good.” Graves stared down at his hands, which were resting in his lap.

 Newt fully sat down on the floor, not necessarily out of defeat, but out of exhaustion. Both of them just sort of looked at each other for a minute until Graves chimed in.

 “MACUSA’s not letting anyone in or out for a few days. Maybe up to a week, just so that they can clean up the lobby and make sure there are no more security issues,” Graves also sounded exhausted.

 He continued, “I observed the initial interrogation, and there are a few promising leads. One of them mentioned something about Norway, but gave us nothing about it. The other certainly yelled a lot,” Graves raised his eyebrows in second-hand annoyance, “but slipped up and said something about some sort of weapon that was in the works. We’ll have to keep questioning to see of those go anywhere, though.”

Newt didn’t have anything to say as a rebuttal, but instead offered a tired sigh that signaled his understanding. They joined each other in silence again, listening to the stagnant hum of the vent system. A blanket of anxiety hung above them, it seemed to hang over the entire building and its surroundings. The Muggles outside also seemed to instinctively avoid the place.

 Even though the air was tense, Newt appreciated the silence. It gave him a chance to be with his own thoughts again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any grammatical issues here are completely my fault since this chapter was slightly rushed oops
> 
> again, thanks to everyone for being patient on updates! i'm going to try to get back on the weekly update schedule but i can't guarantee anything since my final year of college is starting up in about a month!
> 
> *whispers* smooching will happen in the next chapter btw, i'm relying on the good ol' "trapped alone in an office together" trope and i'm not even sorry


	7. Fresco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> consistent update schedule? don't know her
> 
> this is a longer than normal chapter so i hope that makes up for it

It was strange hearing the MACUSA building sound so calm. Newt had only been staying there for less than a week but the busyness and the noise became almost commonplace. He was even used to the smell of the burnt coffee, and even that was missing. Now, there was barely the hum of the vents to center him. He hated crowds and noise but now there was nothing in between him and his own thoughts, and it made him anxious.

Graves hopped off the surface of the desk, forcing him out of his own thoughts. He walked over to the door, pulling it open as he turned to Newt, “I’m going to run down to the cafeteria, to see how the food situation is going to work. Aurors should be along to bring sleeping bags for tonight, but you’re welcome to wander around the building as much as you like.” And with that he walked out.

Newt figured that this would be a good opportunity to get a little time to himself. He also couldn’t pass up an opportunity to snoop. He picked himself up from the floor and wandered out the open office door, walking in the direction of the open and very empty bullpen office space. He eyed up the elevator, wondering if he should pick a random floor and explore. He decided that would probably be his most exciting option.

He stepped into the still house-elf-less elevator and hit a random floor below the one he was currently on. His finger landed on the number 17. The elevator took a minute or two to rumble down to his desired floor, and once it did he took a cautious step out and took in his new surroundings.

Nobody else appeared to be on the floor, it was just as empty as the floor he came from. He thought it was weird that the _entire building_ was empty apart from a small group of aurors, including himself, Graves, and the Goldsteins. He figured that a lot of people must have run straight out of the building immediately after the explosion.

Newt started investigating the area a little further once he was sure no one was going to yell at him for trespassing –even though he was technically a paid consultant now. As he took quiet, careful steps down the hallway he took a good look around. The walls were a lot more decorated and embellished than that of the Department of Magical Security.

Detailed oil portraits hung in ornate golden frames, and some (what appeared to be) important documents hung framed in a tight cluster near the end of the hallway leading into the next room. There was no indicator showing which department resided on this floor, but it was much more neatly organized than the one he just came from.

He didn’t want to snoop _too much_ , if he did he feared he would be arrested (again) for tampering with foreign government affairs. Instead of digging through the desks he simply looked at their surfaces and what was atop them. Some featured small sculptures, some knick knacks, and there were quite a lot with pictures. Family pictures. A sudden pang of guilt hit him full force. Some of those aurors injured –or even killed- in the explosion downstairs had _families_. Newt decided he had had enough snooping and backed up towards the elevator.

He headed back up to the 32nd floor, back up to Graves’ office. Even though it wasn’t too late in the afternoon he felt drained, and could do with a nap. Since he wasn’t gone for too long, he came back to an empty office. He went over to where he had left his case sitting on the floor and sat back down in the position he was in before. He never truly knew the scope of what exactly he had gotten into until _right now_. People are _dead_. It may not be directly his fault, but he was still involved. Part of him wondered if it was too late to back out now. Another part of him, albeit small, told him to stand his ground. 

Newt put his head on his knees and wondered just how he got himself into this. He also couldn’t help but to think it was almost fate. If he had never done that sketch, they might never have gotten the leads they got and the case could have gone cold. He had a chance to help find one or more missing aurors, a chance to help get them back safely to their heartbroken families. He was suddenly aggressively compelled to see this case to its end. Footsteps from the hallway jolted him out of his thoughts.

“Oh- you weren’t gone long,” Graves shuffled into the office, “they’re going to bring food and sleeping arrangements around soon.” He paused, “Are you alright?”

“Y-yes, I’m alright,” Newt picked his head up from his knees, “I just…had some time with my thoughts.”

“Hm. You just looked troubled, is all,” he replied. 

After that, Graves walked back over to his desk and gingerly hopped up to sit on the surface once more.

“So,” Graves turned his attention back on Newt, “You’re from England?”

“…Yes?,” was all he replied, suddenly wondering why he was getting grilled about his personal life…again.

“Still so secretive,” Graves said under his breath with a crooked smile.

Newt decided to take the initiative to change the subject, “How’s Tina doing?”

“Good, good,” Graves started, “More than good, actually. Excellent, even. Interrogation resumes tomorrow morning while we take inventory on our resources for the next few days.”

“Did… did you need me down there? At the interrogation, I mean,” Newt asked quietly.

Graves waved his sling-free hand, “No, no, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to be there. You’ve already been through a lot.”

Newt thought on it for a minute, “Not to sound like I’m undermining you or your job but,” he glanced up at Graves again, “there might be something I can observe that others may not catch. I have a feeling.”

Graves’ small smile returned with a vengeance, “You have a point.” 

The sound of footsteps outside the office also returned, and this time a short auror in a light buttonup and slacks walked in with two brown paper bags.

“Sack lunches. Or in this case, dinner,” they said, a little less than happily.

Graves hopped up and grabbed both of the sacks from their hands, “Thank you, Cam,” he gave them a small wink, “now go get some rest.”

Cam gave a heavy sigh, replying, “I’ll try my best,” and swiftly hustled out of the office.

Graves tossed a paper sack at Newt, who barely caught it. He peeked inside to see a plain looking sandwich, an apple, a banana, and a small satchel of some sweet looking wafer cookies. Newt couldn’t complain, he liked plain and simple food, and he was suddenly ravenously hungry. He watched Graves move to the other side of his desk to sit in his chair as he pulled out a sandwich and some paperwork.

“Out of curiosity…” Newt started to unwrap his sandwich a bit, “exactly how much paperwork does the director of Magical Security have to do?”

Graves sighed through a bite of food, “Far, far too much,” He paused, wiping at the corners of his mouth, “How much does an artist need to do?”

“Not too much, if any at all. Only if the client is troublesome,” Newt replied. He could very clearly recall the last time a contract with a commissioner went awry. He ended up stealing a (very illegal) nundu out of frustration. A lot of his past clients were criminals, as it turned out.

“Must be nice,” Graves said sarcastically, “seems like paperwork is the only thing I ever do anymore.”

Newt let out a short, breathy laugh in response, and the two of them fell into silence together. The only sounds that occurred between them for the next hour was quiet chewing as they both finished their food. While Newt was eating, he took out his old pocket watch, now broken due to the explosion, out of his pocket and fiddled around with it so that his brain was occupied elsewhere. While he was fiddling, out of the corner of his eye he kept a secret watch on Graves. He could have sworn that he caught him glancing over at him while he thought that Newt wasn’t looking.

Another few hours of silence passed –apart from some papers shuffling on Graves’ end- and the sun was finally starting to set. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable at all, which was an odd feeling for Newt because he wasn’t exactly adept at social interaction. He felt a sort of peaceful anxiety in the air, like the air was charged but everything was still.

A little while after the windows and everything outside turned dark and nighttime was in full swing, a different auror (much more disheveled than the last) quickly swooped into the office with two sleeping bag and pillow bundles, and quickly exited after dropping them off. Graves mumbled a quick “thank you” into the void the exasperated auror left behind. He shuffled all of his finished paperwork into its rightful compartments and folders, slowly got up from his desk over to the two bundles, and tossed one Newt’s way. 

“It’s not going to be the most comfortable, but it’s what we have to deal with for now,” Graves remarked.

“It’s not too far off from what I’ve been sleeping on inside my suitcase, actually,” Newt replied, rolling out the puffy sleeping bag. They looked like the remnants of what the soldiers used during the war, the colors seemed to indicate so.

Graves shot a short, troubled glance his way and muttered under his breath, “Jesus, kid…”

A second later a distant shout of “LIGHTS OUT!” came from the hallway, and the lights were immediately switched off and they were both left in the dark. Newt felt like he was at a sleepover where the other kid had strict parents.

He heard Graves shuffling around a little to lie over top of his sleeping bag across from him, and he did the same. Now laying on his stomach, Newt stayed still for a moment and rested his hands on his arms crossed in front of him, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He looked over to see the vague outline of Graves in the same position as him, and he heard him let out a soft sigh. Newt quickly kept his eyes to himself. From where he was just looking, he heard a whisper.

"So," Graves asked quietly, "Do you have a favorite? Creature, I mean."

"Mmm," Newt pondered for a moment, "It's hard to choose a favorite, it's like picking your favorite child. I am quite fascinated by bowtruckles, at the moment. Very fickle creatures, they mostly like to keep to themselves. I'm working on rehabilitating a few of them, though the only ones I've ever seen have been sold in the black market. Been poached to near extinction..."

Graves hummed his solidarity with Newt's last statement and then added, "Y'know, we do have a department for the regulation of magical creatures here. If they ever decide to revamp the department they could probably use you."

Newt huffed a small laugh, "I'm not sure I'm cut out for full-time office work, unfortunately. Before I knew I wanted to do art, I shadowed my brother at the Ministry. It...did not work out."

"Hm, so _now_ you decide not to be secretive, I didn't know you had a brother," Graves teased.

"Theseus. He does auror work, did some stuff for the war, typical wizarding stuff in Great Britain," he replied, "Wasn't for me, though."

"Hm. I feel like I've heard the name, but I haven't had the chance to do much in the way of international communication. Does he know you're here?"

"Well...no," Newt hesitantly replied, "He doesn't know that I live out of a suitcase, if that's what you mean. I haven't kept in touch since...I left Hogwarts."

"Ah," Graves shifted slightly on his sleeping bag, "well, I'm still glad we have you on this case at least."

Newt only sighed in reply, thinking on something. "Do you... normally hire outside consultants?" he asked.

"No, almost never," Graves replied immediately, "You were a special case, I suppose." he took a short pause, "Well, actually in truth I only decided to hire you on impulse. I was desperate to find a lead and I took a gamble."

"I suppose I'm glad you did, then," Newt said back, "I don't get paying art opportunities very often. I'll take them where I can get them."

Graves stopped to enjoy the silence for a few seconds, then turned back to Newt, looking him directly in the eye, "For someone as talented as you are, you don't seem to talk very highly of yourself,"

Newt was glad that the room was dark, because he was certain that his face turned beet red at the compliment, "I, uh- I guess I just..."

Newt suddenly noticed that Graves had scooted his sleeping bag closer to Newt's... _a lot_ closer. 

"Don't worry about it, kid," Graves said with a huff of laughter.

"S-sorry," If it were even possible for Newt's face to get even redder, it did, "I've just... never been very confident, I suppose."

"Can I ask why?" Graves inquired.

"I uh, used to be confident when I was young, but," he tried to hide is face in his arms, "when I was accepted into Hogwarts the other kids never seemed to like me very much." He didn't elaborate beyond that, he figured the reason why was implied enough.

It was still very dark in the room, but he could tell that Graves had now propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at him. Something he probably shouldn't be doing on his injured arm, but Newt didn't want to divert the conversation.

"Well, I like you, if it's any consolation," Graves said in return.

Was... Graves _flirting_ with him? In that second, Newt had a flashback of all the times he's interacted with him in the last week he's been here and _oh my god he's flirting_. He cursed himself for being so oblivious.

His brain decided to shut itself down before he even had a chance to reply, and the only thing he got out was a small, "Oh..."

"Listen, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable," Graves said.

"No, No, I just..." Newt stuttered for a moment, "I'm just not used to it, is all."

"You don't get compliments often?" Graves almost sounded offended.

"N-no?" Newt replied, slightly confused, "I'm not really around other people too often, I tend to stick to myself, so...that could be why."

Graves had somehow stealthily scooted his sleeping bag another six inches closer, which was way closer than Newt was used to being around people he didn’t know too well. He was also sure that his face was so hot it had begun melting off.

"Hm," Graves hummed to himself, "Well, being around other people isn't _so_ bad. I would know, I suppose. Comes with the job."

"I've been meaning to work on socializing, but," Newt gave a soft sigh, "I always let my own anxiety get in the way."

"Well, do what you can," Graves replied gently, "take it one step at a time."

"Mmm," was all he gave as a reply, trying his best not to make eye contact. 

It was odd, that he wasn't anxious in this moment, but instead he was incredibly hyper aware of everything he was doing. Every breath he took, every time he blinked, and how loud every shuffle of his arms on his sleeping bag was in the quiet room.

The only things he could hear were the two of them breathing, the room was calm and there was no noise coming from the halls, indicating that everyone else was already sleeping or at the very least trying to. The city outside was even abnormally silent. There were no car engines buzzing by or crickets chirping, just the sound of a light wind and a few rain droplets against the small office window. 

Newt lost himself in the white noise; it lulled his mind into peace. This was the most peaceful he had felt in over a month, even though his life was in the most danger it had ever been. Something just then interrupted his peace; it was the soft thump of another forehead against his own.

"Can I?" Graves asked for permission, barely louder than a whisper.

"Yes," Newt replied even quieter, trying to preserve the silence.

The tips of their noses brushed up against each other for a few seconds of hesitation, and it was Graves who went first. He kept a gentle hand on the collar of Newt's shirt and the other barely brushed the tips of his fingers. Graves was incredibly gentle, but a solid force at the same time. The wind and rain continued outside, and the hum of the white noise enveloped them both.

He didn't notice how long they went on for until light from outside streamed in through his eyelids and he woke up on his side staring at Graves, their hands still slightly touching.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> theseus is vaguely mentioned in this chapter but i'm not really going to include him as a major player? also this is an au so i decided to switch it up by having graves not personally know theseus (i know in canon he did, right? or is that fanon idek)
> 
> this chapter's title doesn't have any sort of special meaning or anything lmao i was just running out of #relatable art terms
> 
> and tbh if you're wondering if i have this storyline fleshed out: the answer is no my dude i'm literally flying by the seat of my pants on this one please #pray for me
> 
> (p.s i'm bad at writing kissing so i'm sorry dskfjh)


	8. Artifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for any typos but it's midnight here and i'm dying in this rarepair hell

A small stream of sunlight crept through the single office window and woke Newt from a deep sleep for a second time, turning the inside of his eyelids a florescent orange. He must have fallen back asleep because he opened his eyes to empty floorboards, the office completely quite except for the sound of a fountain pen scribbling on some paper in the direction of Graves’ desk.

Normally when he wakes from such a deep sleep he’s hunched over a desk or crumpled up in an uncomfortable chair, usually because he’s overworked himself to the point of collapse. This time, however, was much more peaceful; his back didn’t even hurt! His eyelids were heavy and the weight of sleep still hung heavy on top of him as he lay there for a few minutes, listening to the drone of the ventilation.

The scribbling sound suddenly stopped, signaling that Graves was finished with the thing he was currently writing, and some paper shuffled. As he was shuffling his papers around, he must have noticed that Newt was awake, and he cleared his throat softly to acknowledge his presence.

“Hey, Newt,” Graves said, voice slightly gravely due to how early it was, “I’m sorry if I was…out of line last ni-“

“No, no,” Newt interrupted, “You weren’t out of line. I quite enjoyed it.”

Graves gave a small, tired smile, and their sleepy conversation was abruptly interrupted by Piquery and her entourage of aurors.

“Wake up, jelly beans,” her voice was calm yet commanding, “We have four hours to get what we need until we open the building back up. The Goldstein girls have already started the last few interrogations.”

Graves nodded in response and motioned for him to get up and around. Newt checked his pocket watch (which had dug an indent into his side in his sleep) and it was barely six in the morning. He was baffled at how alert and awake Piquery was at this hour. He rolled up his sleeping bag and pillow into one semi-neat bundle, handed it off to Graves, and stepped down into his case for another change of clothes. He silently thanked himself for keeping 50 spare white shirts in his case at all times.

He fed all the creatures for the morning and made sure they all got extra love, as an apology for the stress of the last few days. He made it back up and out of the case, only to be met by Graves and a boiling hot cup of coffee. Graves’ fingertips barely grazed his own as he handed the cup over.

“I made sure it wasn’t burnt this time,” Graves took a long sip of his own coffee as he led Newt out of the office and towards the direction of the interrogation room.

“Well, I appreciate it,” Newt said completely sincerely before blowing on the scalding hot liquid to cool it down just a little.

Graves was still wearing his sling, but the rest of his body moved much more confidently than it had two days prior. He led Newt to a stairwell, pushing the door open with the elbow of his good arm, and led him down one quick flight of stairs to a much grungier looking metal door to a different part of the department. Upon opening said door, they were greeted by an empty receptionist desk (much less rusty) and a long hallway lined with some dusty looking jail cells.

“This is where we keep the least dangerous wizards,” he turned back to Newt with a grin as they were walking along the cells, “Clearly we don’t get too many of those in this department.”

“Exactly what kind of low-level criminals do they put down here, though?” Newt asked.

“Mmm, mostly petty thieves,” Graves replied into his coffee cup, “sometimes we get people in for breaking and entering. You’d think it’d be fairly obvious that most wizarding homes usually have some type of security ward.”

Newt huffed a laugh through his nostrils and sucked down half of his coffee as they reached the end of the hall, Graves greeting Piquery and a few aurors surrounding a panel of two-way glass embedded into the wall. Newt looked through the glass into the room below to see Tina and Queenie sat in front of a disheveled looking man in some _very_ thick handcuffs.

“They’ve been grilling him since three in the mornin’,” an auror piped up from the middle of the group.

“Has he given us anything yet?” Graves asked.

“Nah, not yet. He’s startin’ to crack though.”

Piquery chirped in from the left, “It shouldn’t be too much longer, not with a Legilimens in there,”

The man was starting to look agitated; he was fiddling with his cuffs and looked visibly uncomfortable. Another fifteen minutes go by, and Tina finally stood up and signaled up to the window. Another auror took the cue and stepped down a few stairs and through the door into the chamber, exchanging places with both Queenie and Tina.

Tina stepped out with a shit-eating grin, “I think we’ve got him!”

Graves replied with a grin just as wide, “Excellent, Tina! What do we have?”

“We got him to rat out his friends and confess to the attack on MACUSA,” Tina threw a thumb back towards her sister, “ _and_ Queenie managed to get us a location. A place called Nurmengard.”

“Could be a headquarters of some sort… one of the others mentioned Norway last time, right?” he rubbed at his stubble slightly and turned to Piquery, “We should arrange some meetings with the Ministry, then we can choose the best plan of action from there.” 

“I’ll send over a word,” Piquery replied cooly, “For now what we need to do is reopen the building, reintroduce the aurors and employees, and keep everyone calm. We all need to keep our guard up, but we can’t stir the pot even more than we already have.” 

“Agreed. Fontaine, when does the building open?”

The auror who had piped up earlier looked down at his pristinely polished wristwatch and then back up at graves, “Uh, tee-minus two hours, sir. They’re down polishin’ the new marble.” 

“Good. Graves, Scamander, and Goldstein girls come with me,” Piquery swept away from her group of aurors and led them away from the two-way glass and back down the hall of jail cells.

As she led them through the stairwell and back towards an elevator, Graves grabbed both his and Newt’s empty coffee cups and tossed them in a passing trash bin. They took the elevator all the way up to the very top floor and stepped out into an immaculately golden hallway. This floor was much fancier than the rest of them, it more closely resembled the golden handrails of the lobby staircase but instead with darker marble floors.

Piquery walked them to some ceiling height double doors and effortlessly pushed them open. Her office was just as elaborate and exquisite as the hallways outside. Each and every piece of furniture was spotless, gilded with shining gold leaf, and looked as if no one had ever dared sit in them.

“Please, take a seat,” she motioned towards a couple chairs positioned directly in front of the desk. 

Newt gingerly sat on the very edge of the seat, as gently as he possibly could. He felt so out of place that he was certain he would find some way of ruining this chair. As Newt sat down and Piquery sat behind her desk, the only one left not standing was Graves. Instead he decided to pace in the space in between the polished black cherry desk and Newt’s feet.

“How soon are we able to get word over to the Ministry that we’re coming?” Graves asked calmly. 

Piquery let out a long, drawn out sigh and put her head into one of her hands, “Percival, sit the hell down.” He did as she said and she continued, “We need to slow things down a little bit. Once the building opens back up I’m going to send an auror over through the floo system to see when they have time available to hear us out. I can’t guarantee anything.”

Graves had his good elbow rested on an armrest and his head was in his hand as well, “I apologize, but I’m just… leaning on the side of caution here. I don’t want there to be another incident.”

The both of them looked completely and utterly stressed, Graves was at a stark contrast from his confident and chipper self earlier this morning. Piquery seemed off as well; the weight of the last two days’ events was clearly showing. While the rest of the room was entirely sleek and well-groomed, her desk was covered in nothing but papers. They were all clearly disorganized, several fountain pens were strewn about here and there, and one of them was broken and leaking slightly onto a yellowed piece of parchment.

“You’re well within your right to lean that way, Percival. We just need to think about the diplomatic side of this at the moment.”

“I… understand,” he replied, “why did you bring us _both_ here, if I might ask?”

At that Newt looked back up from his shoes.

“I needed to throw some information at _you_ as well, Scamander,” she pointed towards him with a long and pristinely manicured nail, “I was sifting through some reports we had from about a year ago, some that I thought might tie to Grindelwald.”

“I… don’t know how an artist’s opinion could matter in this, exactly?” Newt replied, with a hint of sass. 

“It’s not about the art this time, unfortunately,” she retorted back, “it’s about the creatures. You have a pretty decent knowledge of them, yes?”

“Decent would be an overstatement, I’m not exactly a zoologist.”

“Well, from what I’ve gathered you’ve got more knowledge on the subject than any of our wildlife department could ever dream of having. Moving back to why I brought you here, one of the reports I looked at was of an incident that happened in downtown Manhattan, in a No-Maj housing district. The report detailed that a gas leak destroyed the building but it seemed a little fishy to me. One witness said they saw a large flying shadow.”

Newt’s heart sank slightly; he had seen this once before, and it hadn’t ended well.

Piquery continued through his silence, “Have you ever encountered an obscurial, Mr. Scamander?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* "jelly beans" means boyfriends in 1920s slang. i wanted her to say "nerds" but i thought that might be a bit too modern lmao
> 
> also i wasn't originally going to include credence in this but i guess i am now, whoops
> 
> i start college next week so rip to consistent uploading (it was already dead tbh). i'm not abandoning this tho, don't worry skdjfh


	9. Sanguine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is still un-beta'd so if there are any glaring and bothersome typos, please let me know!

An obscurial. He hadn’t seen an obscurial since he traveled through Sudan to paint the mountains. That was over four years ago, and at the time there were only four known to exist in the world. 

He turned his attention away from his own thoughts and back up to Piquery, “Y-yes… I have encountered one. Only one.”

Piquery’s left eyebrow peaked with interest, “Would you be comfortable out in the field? I need someone with experience to confirm my suspicions.”

Graves' eyebrows furrowed at that.

Newt fidgeted for a little in his seat before replying, “No offence, Madame President, but…. There hasn’t been an obscurus in America for a very long time… close to 200 years.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. It’s doubtful, sure, but not impossible. Is it a coincidence that when an incident shows activity that very closely resembles the way an obscurus behaves, Grindelwald suddenly shows up in the United States? With no warning or attack patterns that would indicate his travels here?”

“I… suppose that’s evidence enough. I’ll help you, but… only if we keep the obscurial alive.”

After Newt’s reply, Graves decided to inject himself into the conversation, “I’m going ahead and assigning him to my auror team, if that’s alright?”

Piquery replied, “I was going to assign him to your team anyway, Graves, don’t get too overzealous,” she waved to silently tell them to get out of her office, “Go take it easy for the rest of the day, the investigation starts again full force tomorrow morning.”

The both of them stood up, and Graves thanked Piquery. They both walked back out the double doors, through the unnecessarily ornate hallway, and into the elevator.

To avoid an awkward elevator ride, Newt spoke up, “Why were you so anxious to get me on your auror team?”

Graves looked over at him, his eyebrows creased, “I already have enough guilt about you getting hurt in the…incident. At least with you close by at all times I’ll be able to prevent that from happening again.”

Newt squared his shoulders at that, “I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself, I think.”

“ _I’m not saying you can’t_. You’re an exceptionally powerful wizard, even if you might not look like it. You’ve more than demonstrated that with the massive undetectable expansion charm on your case. I’m saying that if you happen to get injured, I’ll be there to immediately help. Who knows what’ll happen if I’m not there and some rookie auror doesn’t know what to do or what you’re comfortable with?” A few seconds of silence followed Graves’ reply.

“…Oh,” was the only thing that managed to come out of his mouth before the elevator dinged and the gates slid open. Instead of opening to the Department of Security, the gates instead opened to the lobby.

Graves pulled out his pocket watch and checked it, “The building’s about to open back up, let’s get out and go for a walk before it gets too swamped down here. I need fresh air, anyway.”

Newt didn’t reply, but instead continued to follow Graves out of the building. As the door to the outside opened, a blast of cold winter air nearly knocked him off his feet. He had forgotten that he hadn’t left the building in nearly three days. He had also forgotten his coat.

“Don’t worry, we won’t be out for long,” Graves said as he noticed his discomfort, simultaneously casting a discreet warming charm to keep him from shivering.

Graves took them in a different direction than the one they took on their last walk. He was also walking a lot closer than before, almost protectively.

“Where are we going exactly?” he asked in slight confusion.

“We’re going to check out that building that got destroyed by the ‘obscurus’,” Graves capped off that last bit in air quotes.

“I thought President Piquery told us to wait?”

Graves looked simultaneously annoyed and excited, “Well, _President Piquery_ isn’t here right now. We’re going to have to take a bit of a look by ourselves.”

Come to think of it, Graves not only looked annoyed and excited, but he also looked absolutely _exhausted_. His walk wasn’t as confident, and he seemed to be nursing his injured arm a bit more than normal. Graves was walking to his right, so the shoulder of his sling-adorned arm was brushing up against his slightly as they continued down the sidewalk. His presence was intimidating to the outsider, but Newt could see that he really just wanted at least three full days of sleep.

There were a large number of muggles walking around, he noticed. It must be lunch hour, because large groups of trench-coat-clad men in business suits carrying sandwiches gave him some puzzled looks for not wearing a coat.

As they quickly moved down the sidewalks and navigated through the bustling New York crowds, Graves looked more anxious by the minute.

After about five more minutes of walking, Graves bumped his shoulder to get his attention, “Here’s the building,” The both stopped in front of what appeared to be a regular brownstone apartment building.

“It looks… normal?” he responded with his hands in his pants pockets, awkwardly shuffling his feet.

“Correct,” Graves replied, “They repaired it after all of the witnesses had been interviewed and obliviated. They originally tried to pin this on some sort of… beast.”

“No creature could destroy a building like this in a matter of seconds,” Newt replied immediately, “The only one native to this country even big enough is a Thunderbird, and those are endangered, and only native to the southwest to boot. And please don't use the word _beast_ , it's incredibly insulting.”

“I apologize,” Graves turned his head to look Newt in the eye, “So, logically, an obscruial _could_ have done this.”

“Logically, yes, but…” he managed to lock eye contact for a few seconds in reply, “most obscurials are children. They don’t usually get this… dangerous. The child would either have to be the most powerful wizard on the planet, or a grown adult. Obscurials don’t normally survive past ten years of age, but there have been one or two that have survived to be older. It’s not impossible, but it is incredibly rare.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a commotion behind them. On the opposite side of the sidewalk, a boy who was handing out leaflets had gotten them thrown back in his face by a rather rude business man and was now leaning down to pick them back up.

“C’mon, we should get back before anyone notices we’ve been gone too long,” Graves placed his good hand on his shoulder to lead him back in the direction they came.

  

\-------

 

As they walked through the doors and into the lobby, it was clear that there was still absolute panic. The lobby was packed full of groups of aurors, some waving around paperwork, all yelling over each other to talk about the events from days prior. However, shortly after they both entered the doors they were stopped by two aurors with what appeared to be metal detectors. They waved the wands up and down, from head to toe, and gave them a nod which cleared them to go inside. Newt looked back up at the threat level clock, which was still firmly pointed to ‘ **EMERGENCY** ’. Graves took his wrist and began to lead him through the crowd; a couple aurors tried yelling to get Graves’ attention but he gave them a very obvious cold shoulder and made a beeline to the elevator. Another problem presented itself: there was a line.

“Damn it,” Graves muttered under his breath, “Why the hell does this building only have one elevator?”

Newt tried talking over the sheer amount of noise, “Can’t we apparate up?”

“No,” Graves shouted back, “This entire structure is laced with anti-apparating wards. Prevents any unwanted visitors from entering the building from anywhere but the front door.”

They waited their turn outside the elevator, which took an excruciating thirty-five minutes. When they were finally able to enter the small metal death-box, they were packed in like sardines and shoved to the back. Graves was still holding on to his wrist. Not quite painfully, but firm enough to let him know he wanted to keep his hand there. He was certain a few other aurors saw, but didn’t question it.

When they finally ground up to their stop and squeezed out, both of them breathed an audible sigh of relief. That relief was short-lived, however, because the entire Department of Security was in chaos. Aurors were running around, paperwork was flying around at lightning speed, and the noise level was just as bad as the lobby.

Graves didn’t even stop to check on anyone or get any information, he made a direct line to his office and followed it immediately. He pulled Newt into his empty office, quickly shut the door behind them, and grabbed onto his shoulder firmly.

“You alright?”

“Yes,” Newt replied, completely genuinely, “just a little crowded, is all.”

“Good, I wanted to make sure you could handle it,” Graves said, sighing, “Looks like the department is back in full swing.”

Graves patted his hand gently to the side of Newt’s neck before opening his office door back up and turning to sit down at his desk, presumable preparing for the inevitable avalanche of paperwork coming his way. As it turns out, Graves was completely right for expecting the worst because, not even a minute after sitting at his desk, two aurors walked in and dropped off two four-inch-thick stacks of paperwork. Each.

Newt decided to occupy himself for the rest of the work day (or at least for as long as Graves was going to do paperwork) and he pulled a large sketchbook and some graphite sticks out of his case. He didn’t get to draw interior scenes too often, so he took the opportunity and got to work.

He spent the better part of four hours intricately outlining and placing dark, dramatic shadows to frame Graves’ slightly hunched figure. He decided to make the lighting more dramatic, and pulled out a stick of red crayon to make things a bit more interesting. Just as he was staring to finish up, Cam walked through the door frame. 

“Floo department needs you, Graves,” they said, seemingly just as disinterested as the last time they had news to deliver.

Graves nodded and slipped the last of what he was working on into the “done” pile and pushed himself away from his desk, stretching out his back and shoulders. Newt also took that as a sign to stop working, as Graves also nodded in his direction, signaling him to follow along.

A short walk down a couple flights of stairs and down a few hallways landed them in a large foyer-type room, lined with sleek fireplaces. The strong scent of dust and scorched brick filled the room, in which a small gathering of very professional aurors gathered in the center. Upon their entry, President Piquery emerged from the center of the group, greeting the two of them with a small smile; she looked optimistic.

“Appointments with International Relations and Magical Creatures are scheduled at the Ministry tomorrow morning,” she said briefly.

“Good, I’ll see if we can get a team together,” Graves pointed towards Cam, Fontaine, Tina, and a few others, “You all come with us tomorrow, I want you in on this.”

The aurors all vocalized their approval and all of them except Tina split up to get back to whatever they were working on back in the office space.

She raised her eyebrows at the two of them and spoke directly to Graves, “Sir, if it’s anything to you, I’d like to walk Newt home,” she looked down to check her wristwatch, “it’s technically the end of the work day, and I think he could use some rest before tomorrow.”

Graves turned to Newt, awaiting his opinion.

“Oh,” he had honestly forgotten that he was even staying with the Goldsteins, “Yes, I agree. Some sleep in an actual bed might do me some good, actually. I don’t have any more work to do here, really.”

“I have no reason to protest,” Graves smiled, “Get him home safe, Goldstein.”

And at that he turned and walked back through the Floo hall and towards his office. Newt heard Tina sigh to his right.

“That man’s a workaholic, Newt,” She said, sounding exhausted, “Knowing him he won’t even go home tonight. Let’s go, it’s going to get chilly if we don’t get a move-on.”

Newt picked up his suitcase and coat (he thanked himself for remembering it this time) from Graves office, and swiftly left the building with Tina. He was looking forward to sleeping on a real mattress, a luxury he was only very recently accustomed to. He wasn’t looking forward to spending time away from Graves, however. Even though he absolutely despised human interaction, he had grown incredibly familiar with having his presence around, and he actually _enjoyed it_.

Once outside, the both of them were bundled up in their coats, and walking briskly. The sidewalk was covered in a very thin sheet of frost, and their shoes made a soft crunching sound as they hit the pavement.

“Hey, Newt,” Tina suddenly spoke up, “you mind if we skip apparating this time? I need the exercise after sitting and doing paperwork all day, if I’m being completely honest.”

“No, no, I don’t mind at all,” he replied, “I quite like going for walks.”

Tina simply hummed her reply and they continued to their destination. Approximately half an hour of jostling their way through scarf-laden muggles later, they reach Tina’s apartment building. There seemed to be something going on across the street, however, as a small crowd of children were making quite a bit of noise yelling at passers-by.

“Don’t mind them,” Tina said through chattering teeth while unlocking the front door, “those are the Barebone kids. Some anti-magic cult church or something, they hang out there sometimes to try and give out flyers. They’ll be gone before we go to bed.” 

Newt didn’t reply, but instead something in his brain clicked. The boy from earlier in the day, from his walk with Graves, was standing there across the road with another stack of fliers in his hand. Looking at him. Something in his eyes didn’t seem… right. It was like he was in pain, but appeared to have no injuries.

He was only able to initiate about ten seconds of eye contact with the boy before Tina dragged him into the building and shut the door. Seeing that strange boy look at him like that left something heavy and rotten in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he couldn’t shake even as he lay in bed trying to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you're still wondering: the pocket watches/wrist watches are still all magical and wind themselves (because i'm lazy)
> 
> credence isn't going to play a part in the newt/graves relationship in this story, he definitely still deserves love and happiness (and god damn it he's gonna get that) but if you're here for graves/credence/newt you're not gonna get it, friendo
> 
> also heyo i'm back at college and i'm taking a narrative course (which includes a section on fanfiction) so i'll probably be able to keep up with this story after all haha (i'm trash)


	10. Phthalo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little longer than normal because i had so much to shove in here so....enjoy!

Waking up in a real bed was a welcome feeling, even if he only managed to get two or three hours of actual sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about that boy across the street- the Barebone boy. Something was _wrong_ , _really wrong_ , but he couldn’t place it.

Was this boy following him, was that why he felt off? No, that couldn’t be it. He was passing out flyers for his family’s church; it was clear he was _required_ to be several different places in town all in the same day, so that rules out a possible stalking. That boy looked absolutely miserable, having to pass out those flyers; maybe his disdain for the task gave him a weird vibe? Newt spent the better part of 30 minutes tossing different ideas and scenarios around in his head while he showered and got dressed, before he gave up and met Tina and Queenie in the kitchen for breakfast after feeding his creatures.

“Good morning!” Queenie chimed as he walked in, “Oh, Newt honey, you look troubled…”

“It’s…” he could clearly tell she was reading his mind, and decided not to lie, “something about that boy we saw handing out flyers.”

“You mean the cult kid with the bad haircut?” Tina said over a particularly large bite of toast.

“Yes… that one,” he replied, “there’s something… not right about him. Something’s off, and I can’t help but to think that it has something to do with Grindelwald.”

“Hm,” Tina had finally finished her toast, “Well, your intuition hasn’t steered us wrong yet. Bring it up to Graves once we get to the office, see what he has to say.”

Queenie handed him a piece of toast, he thanked her as he was eating it, and the three of them bundled up and headed out the door and started off towards the ever familiar Woolworth building. Upon exiting the front doors to the apartment building, Newt half expected to see the flyer boy standing in the exact spot he saw him last night. Unfortunately, it seems as though they decided to pick a new spot to hand out flyers, as he and his younger siblings weren’t there this time. Newt kept an eye out for them throughout the whole walk to work, but saw nothing.

They reached the building, went through the security checkpoint once more, and headed up the gold-gilded stairs and up the elevator. The building seemed to be in a much calmer state of chaos this morning, definitely not calm but definitely less turbulent than the previous afternoon. The three of them were greeted almost instantly by a coffee-clad Graves upon crossing the threshold into the department. He noticed that Graves had finally taken off his sling, assuming his arm must feel better. Graves was only holding two cups, and shoved one of them into Newt’s hand. Tina made a small sound of protest.

“Sorry Goldstein, only have two hands,” Graves winked at Newt, “coffee’s fresh in the kitchen, you’ll want a cup before we Floo over to the Ministry.”

Newt lifted the paper cup up to his face, mostly to hide the fact that it was beet red, but also because he definitely needed caffeine. Queenie ushered her sister over to the kitchen, leaving the two of them to stand in front of each other.

“You look tired,” Graves said over his cup of coffee.

“I… didn’t get much sleep,” he replied.

“Hm,” Graves hummed, “that’s not very good. We have a lot to do today, you gonna be alright?”

“Yes, yes,” he said quickly, “I’ll be fine. But… do you remember that boy we saw on our walk yesterday?”

Graves paused for a moment, “The one handing out leaflets?”

“Yes, that one,” Newt spilled a little bit of coffee on his shirt in his haste to explain, “There’s something not right about him. I can’t explain it, but… I can _feel_ something… bad emanating from him.”

Graves’ eyebrows furrowed above the rim of his cup, “I mean, the boy certainly seemed odd, but… if you think there should be more investigation into him, then I’ll look into it.”

“I don’t think we should just… go in wands blazing,” he said, “I just… think we should observe him a couple times just to make sure nothing is wrong.”

Graves nodded in response, finishing up the last of his coffee around the same time as Newt, and taking both of their empty cups over to a trash bin. Tina must have also finished her coffee in record time, because she tossed her cup in the same bin on the way back to them from the kitchen. Queenie opted out of having coffee, and instead had a mug of hot cocoa. 

“We ready to go yet?” Tina inquired.

“Almost,” Graves replied, “they’re prepping the chimney for us now. They’ll probably have it ready for us by the time we walk over; we’ll meet the rest of the team there. Everybody have everything they need?”

Newt nodded and gripped his case. He had no idea why he was suddenly so anxious to go to the ministry. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen Theseus since he was expelled. He still remembers the crushing disappointment that emanated off of his brother as he walked out the door of his home.

By the time he had spent a few minutes stewing in his anxious brain, they had reached the Floo Chamber, and were greeted by the other four aurors that made up their team. A man wearing overalls covered in dust and soot approached the group as they arrived.

“Chimney’s ready to go, sir,” the man said.

“Excellent, thank you,” Graves replied, taking a small pot of Floo handed to him by the man. He handed it to the other aurors to signal them to go first.

They all went in groups of two or three, until it was just Graves and Newt left in the large room. Graves stepped up to the fireplace and held out his arm, which Newt took by the elbow of his own. Graves clearly stated their destination and threw down some powder, and they both stepped in.

He had forgotten how uncomfortable the Floo system was, he hadn’t used it since before he went to Hogwarts. He felt like the both of them were being squeezed through a small sink pipe, and the pressure of it was nearly caving his chest in. He was also probably gripping onto Graves’ arm harder than he would like to admit.

After what felt like five minutes (which was actually only two or three seconds), the wonderful feeling of fresh air finally hit them and they stepped out of the fireplace. Graves put a gentle hand in the small of his back to guide him out and to make sure he wouldn’t fall over from the vertigo.

They re-joined the group shortly thereafter, and almost immediately a friendly looking woman in a headscarf approached them.

“Hello!” she chimed, holding a clipboard and quill, “does your group have an appointment?”

“Yes,” Graves spoke for the entire group, “We’re with MACUSA. We have appointments with International Relations and Magical Creatures, respectively.”

“Excellent,” her quill began scribbling something onto her clipboard, “You’ll be seeing the department of International Relations first. They’re booked in another meeting for a few moments, so I’ll seat you lot in a waiting room. If you need anything, my name is Mona!”

She guided them out of the Floo room and into a large waiting room filled with chairs. It almost resembled a muggle doctor’s office waiting room, but with way more decoration. Baubles and shiny telescope-type objects floated around the room, and the sound of some barn owls screeching came from the far corner. They all chose their seats, and sat in awkward silence with their hands folded. The only person that appeared to not be out of place was Newt. His blue coat and yellow vest combo was actually the most tame choice of outfit seen in the immediate vicinity. The American wizards were easy to spot, the dark and drab clothing stood out amongst the vibrant color and diversity.

“So,” Suddenly breaking the silence, Graves leaned over to talk to Newt, “that boy with the leaflets… do you know exactly what it is about him that gives you a bad feeling?”

Newt took a second to think the question over, “He just… seems a bit off, is all. The way he looked at me the other night, he looked like he was in pain,” 

Graves’ eyes dropped to the floor in thought, “Hmm,”

“He also looked quite sick as well,” he said, “He could just be naturally very pale, though.”

“Is he a no-maj?” Graves asked.

“I would assume so,” he replied, “I think Tina said the church he was a part of was a muggle anti-wizard organization. Although, there was something about the feeling he gave off. It could have been a magic field that I sensed.”

Graves drummed his fingers on his thighs and hummed to himself again, thinking. He then lowered his voice to a whisper.

“When we get back tonight, let’s take another walk,” he said quietly, “we’ll see if we can spot him.”

Newt nodded back quietly. Somebody at the front of the room called their group, and they stood up. Their group navigated through the chairs to the front of the room, and a tall auror in long golden robes waved them through the doors and into a long hallway. The hallway opened up to a large, elegant lobby; the floors were laden with a dark, shiny marble, and a large marble fountain stood proudly in the middle.

Newt suddenly remembered that the department they were headed to was the one Theseus worked in, and the anxiety was back. His hands were getting so sweaty that he was afraid he was going to drop his suitcase, and he brought it up to his chest to hang on to it better. Graves could sense his worry as they walked next to each other, and put another hand in between his shoulder blades to calm him. He had to admit that the contact did help a bit.

The tall, golden auror led them through the massive lobby and into an elevator. The elevator was (thankfully) a lot less rickety than the one at MACUSA, and it smoothly floated down a few floors below ground level before stopping. The auror led them into a small, cramped office, and told them to wait. The office only had two chairs, which Graves and another auror took. Most of the rest of the space was stacked to the ceiling with piles of books, so there was not much room for the rest of them to stand. Newt ended up being crammed in the corner furthest from the desk.

Tina turned her head towards his direction, “Hey, Newt, why do all the wizards here wear those… robes? Can’t they just wear suits? It seems a lot more comfortable.”

“Robes have always just been… standard,” he replied, “we can wear pants if we want, Tina.”

Graves turned around to end the conversation, “Wizards here are a lot less concerned with blending in to the no-maj population. There’s not as much resistance here as there is in the States.”

There was only a small beat of silence before the door to the office opened and three aurors walked in, each carrying a sizeable amount of paperwork, quills already scribbling away. None of the wizards were Theseus, however, and Newt breathed a sigh of relief. Graves stood and shook each of their hands as they exchanged greetings, and promptly sat back down to begin the meeting.

“Percival Graves,” the eldest British auror spoke first, “I understand you’re here because of… Gellert Grindelwald?” He shuffled some papers around and looked up at Graves.

“Yes,” Graves cleared his throat before continuing, “There was an attack last week that we have confirmed was directly ordered by him, and carried out by his supporters.”

“Ah, yes, we’ve heard about the attack,” the second auror piped up.

“Good,” Graves replied, “We’re here because one of his supporters let it slip that a possible base of operations could be located somewhere in Europe. A place called Nurmengard, in upper Norway.”

“ _Nurmengard_?” the youngest auror questioned, “That hell hole’s been abandoned for fifty years!”

“Well _, clearly it wasn’t abandoned good enough_ ,” Graves was starting to get annoyed, “We need to assemble an expedition team to go up there and clear the place out for good. We’re afraid he may be hiding some sort of weapon there. Besides, even if Grindelwald himself isn’t hiding out there, we need to destroy his base of operations to weaken his organization from the inside.” 

The eldest auror shuffled through his paperwork once more and scratched at his greying beard, lost in thought for a few seconds. “Hmm,” he gruffed, “and you’re sure it’s _Grindelwald_?”

“Yes,” Tina suddenly spoke up, “I interrogated his cronies myself, and they confirmed they were with him.”

The three aurors huddled together in their chairs for a moment, whispering to each other, then turned back to Graves and the group.

“We’ll pass it along to the rest of the department,” the youngest said, “we’ll assemble our team within a week and we’ll be in contact with you once we have the necessary resources to head out.”

“Good, thank you,” Graves stood up and shook each of their hands once more.

“An auror is waiting outside to guide you to the Magical Creatures department,” the eldest said, promptly exiting and leaving the door open for them to follow.

Graves nodded at the rest of them to follow his lead, and they exited as a group, Newt following up in the very back of the pack. They were greeted by a very tall ginger auror in emerald green robes, holding a clipboard with a minimum of four quills scribbling away.

“Hello,” the auror chirped confidently, “Oh-“

Oh. _Oh shit_.

“Newt, what the bloody _hell_ are you doing here,” he turned to Graves, “ has he been arrested?”

“Not this time, no,” Graves replied incredulously, “you two know each other?”

“He’s my little brother,” the auror held his hand out to Graves, “Theseus Scamander.”

Graves took the man’s hand and shook it, before being led down another hallway.

“You never answered my question, Newton,” Theseus sounded rather annoyed, “what exactly _are_ you doing here?”

Newt thought his lungs were going to shrivel up, “I- erm,” 

“He’s consulting with us,” Graves could sense his discomfort and interrupted, “MACUSA commissioned some artwork from him.”

Theseus raised an eyebrow but decided not to question it. Newt was silently thankful that Graves didn’t mention that he was involved with the Grindelwald case. If Theseus ever found out that he was putting himself in this much danger, he would probably haul his ass back to his parents house himself and let _them_ yell at him, which would be ten times worse.

Theseus led them down a long hallway, down a couple flights of stairs, and up to a rusty door in the stairwell.

“The Magical Creatures department is right through here, they’re expecting you,” Thesues turned and glared at Newt before pointing to him, “and don’t get yourself into any _shit_. We’ll be watching.”

He left the way he came, leaving the group to stand on their own in front of the rusty door. 

“Do you have a record or something?” Tina asked.

“Uh,” Newt scratched the back of his head reflexively, “Something like that.”

He heard Queenie giggle from the other side of the group, and Graves rolled his eyes, opening up the rusty door with a slight struggle. The room inside resembled a greenhouse and was large, but incredibly cramped. Empty cages lined the walls from floor to ceiling, and a small old man stood in the center of the room hunched over a few potted plants. He looked up, dirt flying out of his hair in his haste. 

“Oh! You must be the Americans,” he chimed, waddling over to them and taking off his dirt covered gloves.

“This… is the Magical Creatures department?” Graves asked, looking over the old man’s shoulder, “and you’re planting _flowers_?”

“Oh, that,” he looked back at the flowers, “Well, the ministry doesn’t really have much use for this department anymore, unfortunately.”

“What do you mean?” Newt asked, his brow furrowing.

“Wizards these days don’t put too much care into _helping_ magical creatures. Most would rather just kill them than have to deal with containing it humanely.”

“That’s… not right.” Newt replied.

“Oh, my boy, if you only knew,” the old man sighed. 

“Well,” Graves said, “We’re here for an opinion. We’re under the strong impression that there could be an obscurial in the States. We need to know the best course of action if we were to ever come into contact with one.”

The man looked shocked, “An _obscurus_? _In America_? That’s preposterous.”

“Yes, yes, we know. There hasn’t been one in our region for 200 years. But… we think that Grindelwald might have one in his radar. He might be trying to use it has a weapon.” 

“Oh… oh my,” the man had started to sweat now, and appeared to be visibly shaken, “this isn’t good. If you’re right, and there actually _is_ an obscurial… if Gellert Grindelwald gets his hands on it, it could be catastrophic. The entire east coast could be leveled!”

“So what can we _do_ to prevent that?” Graves insisted, trying to keep the conversation on topic.

“Y-you can’t _do_ anything,” the man laughed nervously, “trying to stop an obscurus is certain death!”

Newt glared at that, “That’s completely untrue… it is possible to separate the obscurus from the host body safely.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to look at him, cornering him.

“And what about the host body?” Graves asked, “It’s just a child, right? Wouldn’t it die?”

“The child would only die if they reached their 10th birthday, or were under extreme duress,” he explained, “The obscurus will disappear if the child dies, but if the child stays calm, I can remove it. It will try and put up a fight, though, so it may be a little difficult.”

The old man waved his hands above his head, flustered, “I want no part in this! This department is incredibly underfunded as it is, a stunt like this could cost me my job! Get out, get out, before you lot lure anything dangerous into my garden!” 

He shooed them all out rather rudely, and they were once again left to face the rusty old door.

“Damn it,” Graves sighed loudly and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Looks like we’re on our own for this one, huh?” Tina said.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Graves heaved another sigh, “but at least we have help with raiding Nurmengard. For now we’ll just have to play the waiting game on that one.”

The group found their way back to the hallway, where a different auror was waiting to escort them back to the Floo chamber.

 

\----- 

 

They all made their way back through the fireplace, and everyone split off to return to their respective jobs for the rest of the afternoon. Only Graves hung back to stand next to Newt.

“Hey,” Graves said quietly, “you up for a walk?”

“Yes, actually,” he said, “I think that some fresh air might be… beneficial.” 

Graves nodded and the two of them made their way out of the building to start their walk together. They took the same route as they did the last time, but the both of them were on high alert.

The anxiety of the events earlier had exhausted him, but not to the point of sluggishness. The rest of New York seemed to be weighted down, as well. It was starting to turn into the late afternoon; the sun was considerably less bright and was hidden underneath a layer of clouds. Newt began to observe passers-by once they had begun walking at a decent pace, and so far he only saw normal muggle activity.

After a few minutes they reached the building that they had stopped at before, but there were no leaflet children in sight. The entire street seemed rather dead, actually. 

“Huh,” Graves said to himself, “Where do you suppose a cult full of brainwashed kids might be hiding out?”

“I assume they’ve just moved to a new location to hand out those papers,” Newt replied.

“Hm,” Graves hummed back, “Let’s move a little further down the street.”

They walked a few more blocks, checking every street corner and sticky alleyway, but they saw nothing. It wasn’t until they had walked another eight blocks until they caught the slightest whiff of activity: a lone flyer lying on the ground, half dampened by the snow.

Newt picked it up and mumbled, “They’ve got to be near here somewhere-”

Graves suddenly cut him off by yanking him by the arm into a narrow alley.

“Shh,” he put a finger up to his mouth to silence him, “Look.” 

Graves was pointing to a person that had just exited an alleyway adjacent to them. It was the boy Newt had seen the day before. He looked upset; there were heavy bags under his eyes, which were stained red, like he had been crying.

“Shit,” Graves exclaimed under his breath.

“What?” Newt whispered back.

“Look at his coat pocket,” Graves pointed, “there’s a necklace hanging out of it. It’s that symbol.” 

Sure enough, there was a shiny silver necklace dangling out of the boy’s pocket, which featured the all-too-familiar triangular symbol that was Grindelwald’s calling card. 

“What does _Grindelwald_ want with a muggle boy?” Newt asked. 

“You said you could feel a magic field emanating off of him?”

“Yes, I can feel it now,” Newt replied, squirming, “it’s making me anxious.”

“Well, what if this ‘muggle boy’ isn’t a muggle?” Graves asked, looking back out of the alley to observe him.

The boy had dropped a small stack of flyers and was trying to peel them off of the snow. He was startled when another child, this time an older girl, called his name. 

“Credence! Mother is waiting, we must go!” the girl called, and the boy hurriedly picked up what he could and scrambled off.

“Credence…” Newt whispered.

“We have a name, at least,” Graves sighed, “that’s a lead.”

The proximity of the cramped alleyway made itself clearly known, the both of them were standing flush against each other, chest-to-chest.

Even though Newt was entirely uncomfortable, something in his brain clicked.

“He’s a squib,” he said, out of nowhere.

“…What?”

“The boy,” Newt gestured wildly towards the street, “with the leaflets, Credence. He’s a squib!  _He’s_ the obscurial Grindelwald’s going after!” 

“You can’t be sure of that,” Graves replied.

“No, it all makes sense,” he said, “The _only_ reason Grindelwald would be going after him is if there were some sort of magical benefit, therefore he must be magical. He’s forced to live with muggles who regularly and openly oppress magic, meaning he has to hide. He’s being forced to hide his magic, and he’s being forced to oppress something he cannot control; that gives an obscurus the perfect environment to fester in. Grindelwald is trying to manipulate and lure this boy into his ranks and teach him to use it to his advantage so he can create the ultimate weapon.”

Graves grabbed ahold of both of his shoulders, “Newt, holy shit. You’re a genius.”

He was about to protest when Graves interrupted him with a firm kiss planted directly onto his mouth. A few seconds of stunned silence hung between them before the two of them broke apart. Graves took a quick glance out at the street once again, and then back to Newt. It was starting to get dark outside, and the air had a considerable bite to it.

“Hold on,” Graves grabbed both of his arms tightly and suddenly apparated them both away from the alleyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun art fact: phthalo green (pronounced "thall-oh") is the color i imagine floo powder being
> 
> if you want occasional behind the scenes updates on this fic, i also have a [twitter](http://twitter.com/geothebio)


	11. Alla Prima

A quiet _pop_ sounded and a rush of warm air flooded into his eardrums, forcing him to sway a little where he was standing. Had it not been for Graves’ firm grip on his arms, he would have definitely fallen over. As a result of the sudden dizziness, his eyes were firmly planted on the ground below him. As his eyes focused, the smooth shine of dark marble floors came into view.

He briefly wondered if he was back at the ministry, before he looked up to see that they were in a large ornate house lined with black wallpaper. The hallway they were in was dark, with only just enough light so that Newt could see the outline of the man standing opposite him. The house was whisper quiet, apart from the sound of their breathing.

The air was entirely calm, but was filled with tension. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he placed them on either side of the lapels of Graves’ perfectly manicured suit. Their foreheads bumped together, and the both of them were still shivering from the cold weather they had just escaped. Graves’ hands had moved to his hips and a soft _thud_ sounded from his upper back, which landed against the corridor wall.

Suddenly, everything seemed so frenzied, like the both of them had been starved of human contact for years. Graves had gripped his hips with bruising intensity, their fronts glued together. His temperature had spiked tenfold, his whole body felt flushed, and the butterflies in his stomach felt as if they were on fire. Their teeth clashed together and their noses brushed against one another, it felt like they were intertwined for an eternity together, even though it had only been a brief few moments before they finally broke apart.

“P- Per-“ He felt like he could barely breathe, there was no oxygen in his lungs and it was as if all the blood in his body had pooled to his abdomen.

“I- I’m so sorry,” Graves was breathing just as heavily, a few strands of his neatly styled hair had fallen down into his face, “I’m sorry I jumped on you l-like that.”

“No, don’t be,” he signaled his approval by gripping his lapels slightly tighter.

They both stood there together for a few moments, calming down. Graves touched their foreheads together for one more second before clearing his throat, “Follow me,” he whispered.

Graves led him through the remainder of the dark hallway and towards a bit of a bright light, which ended up being the kitchen. The tile was just as dark as the floors of the hall, as were the cabinets and walls to match.

Graves turned to him as he was opening a cabinet above his counter, “Did you need anything to drink?”

“No, no, I’m quite alright, thank you,” he replied, awkwardly standing in the middle of the kitchen.

Graves filled himself a glass of water from the sink and sat down at a darkly stained wooden dining table, gesturing to Newt to do the same. Newt noticed that Graves’ face was still flushed red as he sipped his water. He was slightly proud to have done that to such a stoic and professional man, strangely enough.

In-between sips of water, Graves raised his eyebrows at Newt and decided to break up the silence, “Welcome to Graves Manor,” he said it in a tone that dripped with sarcasm.

Newt looked around briefly, “You… _this_ is where you live?”

“Unfortunately,” Graves replied.

“Why unfortunately?” he asked.

“Look at this place,” Graves waved his hand towards the door that led out to the kitchen, his eyebrows knitted together, “It’s far too big for one man to live alone. I’ve considered downsizing to a more modest apartment, but I’m afraid that my mother’s ghost would kill me in my sleep if I even dared.”

A beat of silence hung in the air before Newt changed the subject, “So… why have you brought _me_ here?” 

“Well” Graves sighed and set his half empty glass of water down on the table, “mostly because I wanted to take you somewhere private,”

Newt’s face flushed red.

Graves continued, “but it was also getting pretty late. I didn’t want you to have to walk all the way back to Tina’s in the cold. Besides, we got what we set out for.” He got up and gestured for Newt to follow him out of the kitchen. 

Graves led him back into the hallway and led him in the opposite direction from which they had originally apparated in. As they were walking down the hall, Graves snapped his fingers to turn on some dim lights. The end of the hall opened up to a large den area, with a tall staircase directly in front of them that led upstairs. Graves took him into the den, which was filled with large plush couches and chairs.

He took a seat on the couch, setting his case down beside him and shrugging his coat off, and he watched Graves saunter over to the fireplace.

“So,” Graves started, opening up the metal grates and placing some fresh firewood in, “how’s your leg feeling?”

“Oh, much better,” he said, “how’s your arm?”

“As good as it’s going to get, I think,” he put the last log of firewood in the fireplace, took out his wand, and tapped it to spark a small flame, “I’m wondering if I pulled something, though.”

“Hmm,” Newt hummed in response. He slipped his shoes off in an effort to get more comfortable, and pulled his knees up to is chest. He thought for a moment, then asked, “Isn’t Tina going to worry if I don’t come home tonight?”

Graves took his own spot on the couch, throwing one arm over the back, “Nah, we’ll tell her in the morning.”

“I don’t think she’s going to like that,” he said cautiously. He was sure he would get an earful from both the Goldstein sisters. He was also sure that they would probably yell at Graves more than they would yell at _him_.

“I’m sure she won’t,” Graves said with a small chuckle.

A comfortable silence fell back between them, the sound of the crackling fire grew louder as it became larger. The room warmed up quickly, lulling Newt into a pleasant state of drowsiness. The crook of Graves’ shoulder was very inviting, and eventually he fell asleep, curled against his chest.

 

 -----

 

 

The next few days passed without much action. The Woolworth building was just as busy as it normally was, and the department of security had just as much paperwork to do as usual. Newt passed the time by setting up a workspace off to the side of Graves’ desk. Slowly his supplies, easels, and canvases took over the unused portion of the office. Most of his day was passed by drawing gestures, mostly of random aurors that passed in and out. On one rare occasion he broke out his rarely used and very expensive oil paints.

All this down time gave him time to think. He was thinking about the attack; thinking about what Theseus said. It still bothered him that others were getting hurt, that he wouldn’t be able to control who lives or dies. He’s never really… _had_ to worry about that before. He was so used to simply _living his life_ , drifting in and out, and never really having an impact on other people. This time was different.

There were people here, _real people_ , whose lives he had wormed his way into. Of course he had a family, he had a brother and two parents who cared for him, but having friends was entirely new to him. Having a _romantic interest_ was completely new to him. Theseus told him not to do anything stupid, and the list of things that could mean is very broad. He’s done a number of stupid things in his 27 years of being alive, but getting involved in a case about the most dangerous dark wizard in the world has got to be at the top of the list.

At any moment, he could get seriously hurt, or even killed. _One_ wrong turn could be the death of him, and the threat of that looming over his head scared him. Going into this profession, he knew he would travel, but he never knew it would bring him here. Suddenly having stability was quite jarring, he was so used to just… being vagrant. Settling down was the last thing he wanted to think about.

The fear of the unknown hung in the back of his mind, and he tried to muffle the noise his brain was making with mindless tasks. He even spent more time with his creatures, but that was mostly to make up for the days he was injured and unable to.

As the third day of gratuitous waiting pushed on, he sat at his easel again, staring blankly at the paper before him. Graves had been called to a meeting with Piquery, and had been gone for quite some time. After another fifteen minutes of not being able to draw a single thing, he decided that getting some fresh air might be beneficial.

Both Tina and Queenie were busy, so he had no other choice but to take his walk completely by himself. He made sure his creatures were all right for the rest of the afternoon, locked up his case, pulled on his coat, and made his way down to the lobby and out the door. He walked a little bit more briskly than he had on other walks, mostly because he preferred to walk at a higher speed when he was alone.

Being out alone also meant that this gave him the opportunity to people-watch. The muggles here all seemed to be in a big rush, the entire city seemed to move at high speed, at least until it was dark outside. As he was lost in observing a group of men clad in business suits, his shoulder collided with another. He heard something flutter to the ground and he whipped around to apologize.

“Oh, I’m-“ he cut himself off as his eyes were greeted by a very familiar face. The pamphlet boy, Credence, was now crouched down and quickly trying to gather up all of his leaflets.

“I’m so sorry,” he continued, crouching down to try and help him gather up all of the spilled papers, some of which were now being stepped on by a few rude passers-by.

Credence never responded to his apology, and instead started picking up the leaflets even faster, presumably to avoid confrontation. After all of the salvageable leaflets were picked up, Credence stood. The boy just stood there rooted to the spot for a few seconds, then shoved a leaflet into Newt’s hands, and speed-walked away from him. He didn’t look at the leaflet right away, but he did watch as Credence left.

As he stood there, a light breeze drifted through the city streets, blowing the sweet smell of fresh bread into his nostrils. His stomach rumbled, and he realized that he had forgotten to eat lunch that day. He looked in the direction he thought the smell had come from, and he saw a bright pastel sign poking out at him from a few blocks down. That was new. Why hadn’t he noticed this bakery on his previous walks? 

He crossed the few blocks over to the bakery, which had a massive line going out the door and down the street. _Kowalski, Quality Baked Goods_ , the sign overtop read. Newt got into the back of the line, which passed rather quickly. As he finally got into the threshold of the bakery, the smell of fresh bread got even stronger. Now he was _really_ hungry.

He remembered Graves, and that he was currently trapped in a meeting, and was sad he couldn’t share his lunch with him. He decided to surprise him, and he made the decision to bring him back a pastry. He got his baked goods in a neat little paper bag, and made his way out of the shop with a skip in his step. He hoped his good mood would last, because it felt good to be happy again. Even with the threat of constant danger rising more and more with each passing hour, he was starting to genuinely feel like he had a place here, even if he doubted himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone in this universe has marble flooring, apparently
> 
> sorry if this chapter's boring, but i needed a little space in between plot points lmao
> 
> this fic is still (unfortunately) un-beta'd and i'm still in the adjustment period on some new anxiety medication, so if this seems a bit... scatter-brained? that's why. i might go back in and edit this chapter later, i don't know. I'm not completely happy with the dialogue on this one. it doesn't seem as organic as other chapters


	12. Contrapposto

Newt walked into Graves’ office to find him already sitting back at his desk.

Graves lifted his head to greet him, “Oh, where have you been?”

“I needed some air,” he responded, taking note of Graves’ stressed expression, “how did your meeting go?”

“Oh, it _went,_ alright,” Graves sighed deeply, setting his pen down and rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“…Was it that bad?” he asked in response.

“Well, no, it wasn’t bad per say,” Graves had begin rubbing at his forehead a little more aggressively, “it was just… a lot of nothing. All we’ve been doing for the past week is _waiting_. The ministry is taking their sweet time with getting the Nurmengard expedition team assembled.”

“Hmm,” he replied, “Well, the ministry is notorious for, erm… taking a while.”

“God damn it,” Graves mumbled under his breath before changing the subject, “so what did you do on your walk?”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, suddenly remembering the pastries in the bag he was holding, “I found a new bakery! I brought you back something-“

He crinkled open the top of the bag and handed him a chocolate croissant, pulling out his own to match.

Graves took the pastry and smiled, “I’m glad you thought of me,” he chuckled lightly, “and sweets are always a welcome sight here.”

Newt pulled a chair up to sit across from Graves at his desk, and they both sat and enjoyed their pastries together, idly chatting about the day’s previous events. As he got up from his chair to throw away the bag and croissant wrappers, the leaflet Credence gave him fluttered out of his coat pocket.

“What’s that?” Graves nodded towards the paper on the ground.

“Oh,” he bent down and picket up the leaflet, “I ran into the Barebone boy again. He gave me this.” He held the leaflet out and Graves took it quickly.

“Wait, _what_?” he stared down at the leaflet in disbelief, “it took us hours last time we were looking for him, and you just leave the building and _run into him_?”

“Er… yes?” he replied, not sure if he was in trouble or not.

“Did he do anything?” Graves asked, a little calmer this time.

“Well, no,” he said, “I bumped into him –quite literally- and helped him pick up his leaflets. He shoved one in my hand and ran.”

“Huh,” Graves pondered for a few moments before continuing, “Where was this, exactly?”

“Mmm,” he thought hard to remember, “it was only a few blocks down from here, I think. I hadn’t walked too far before I ran into him.”

Graves’ eyebrows furrowed, “That’s… odd.”

“Odd?” 

“Odd. The Second Salemers have never gotten this close to our building. They tend to stick close to where their church is located.” Graves turned the leaflet around to show Newt what was written.

The pamphlet was titled _Witches Live Among Us!_ , and featured a slightly graphic illustration of four witches being burned at the stake directly on the front.

“So…” he looked up from the pamphlet, “How is that odd? They just picked a different spot to hand them out.”

“It’s odd because there was an… incident between a few of them and Tina. We had to obliviate at least twelve of them. They haven’t returned to this part of town since. He could have been purposefully _following_ you.”

“Why would he follow _me_?” he asked, “If Grindelwald is influencing him… I mean- Grindelwald doesn’t even know I exist-”

Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of a very tired and disheveled looking Tina.

She looked in the trash bin to see the empty pastry wrappers, “You boys didn’t get me anything?”

“Unfortunately not, Goldstein,” Graves sighed, “What’ve you got for me this time?”

“Well,” Tina dropped a rather large stack of papers down on his desk with a solid _thud_ , “more paperwork, for starters. But, I do have some other good news.”

“I’m always in the mood for some good news, go on,” Graves said.

“We have a time frame on the expedition,” she replied, proudly putting her hands on her hips.

Graves only raised his eyebrows in response, signaling her to continue.

“The team should be assembled within another week. We’ve already put together supply packs for everyone, so our end is ready to go.”

“Excellent, thank you, Tina,” Graves said, still sounding tired.

Tina nodded back and quickly exited the room. Graves looked down at the enormous stack of paperwork and sighed again, picking up his pen to start where he left off.

“What I was getting at,” Graves looked back up at Newt, pen in hand, “was that you should be aware of your presence in the outside world. Even if Grindelwald himself doesn’t know you exist, _the Barebone boy does_ , and we know the two are connected in some way.”

“Knowledge by association?” he asked.

“Essentially, yes,” Graves pulled a few papers towards him, “We don’t know if Credence could tell him about you, or that you’re associated with _me_. He’s definitely seen us walking together at least once.”

A sinking feeling filled his stomach. He didn’t know why he hadn’t pieced the puzzle together earlier. He _had_ been seen walking with Graves, and by one of Grindelwald’s possible informants. The first time he had locked eyes with the boy, he was with Tina, Grindelwald probably knows about her too.

Graves sensed his discovery and continued, “Just… be alert. Don’t let your guard down.”

Newt nodded back, and made a mental note to be more on guard.

He decided he should leave Graves alone to do his paperwork, and he desperately needed to clear his head.

 

\---

 

Stepping down into his case, he puttered around in his shed for a bit. He organized some of the miscellaneous flasks and potions he kept on hand, and began to prepare a few buckets of food for some of the larger creatures. Once they had been fed and cared for, he focused on some of the smaller creatures.

The moon calves were just as happy to see him as ever, and they enthusiastically ate their food as he tossed it out to them. He delivered a few pieces of candy to Dougal, his demiguise, and moved on to check on Niffler. Niffler definitely had a few extra pieces of metal hiding in his hoard, but he was thankfully still firmly in place in the spot Newt had last left him.

After all of his usual housekeeping was done, he took a moment to gather himself. Sitting on the dirt below his bowtruckle tree, he pulled his pocket notebook out, along with a pencil. A few of his bowtruckles hopped down to his feet to model for him, which made him smile.

He got completely engrossed in sketching for a few hours, but a soft knock at the top of his case snapped him out of it. Upon opening the lid of his case, he was greeted by a sleepy looking Tina.

“C’mon, Newt, it’s already after dark.” She yawned, adjusting the sleeve on her coat.

He didn’t realize it had gotten that late, and he quickly gathered himself and prepared for the walk home. As he exited his case, he saw Graves still sitting at his desk, diligently hunched over his stack of paperwork. Tina led him out of the office and quietly latched the door behind her.

 

Their walk home was quiet, only a few cars puttered by on the road and the only muggles left outside were those headed home or to a bar. The tip of his nose was completely numb by the time he and Tina walked through the threshold of her apartment.

They were immediately greeted by a very cozy looking Queenie, who was wearing what appeared to be seven different sweaters and scarves; she was very clearly prepared for the impending ice age.

“Oh, Tinnie, it’s so cold outside!” Queenie exclaimed through the thick turtleneck of one of her sweaters, “You two should have come home before it got dark, it would have been much less cold of a walk.”

“All of us stayed a little too late, Queenie,” Tina shook the snow off her coat before vanishing it up off the hardwood floor, “God, it’s freezing.”

Tina hung both her and Newt’s coats up on a drying rack, and Queenie beckoned for the both of them to sit down at the dining table.

“Here, this should warm you up, honey,” Queenie floated over three giant mugs of hot chocolate for them all to share.

Newt had to admit that it was a very welcome sight; he may have been a bit too overenthusiastic in taking his first sip, as he ended up slightly burning the roof of his mouth. The three of them sat in silence for a short time, most of that was spent by Newt and Tina simply trying to warm back up.

“So, Newt,” Tina broke the silence over the lip of her mug, “any new art projects you’re working on?”

“Oh, er,” he laced his hands together around his mug, “nothing noteworthy, at the moment. I did do a study on bowtruckles earlier today.”

“Mm, it’s good that you’re keeping busy,” she took another long sip of hot chocolate, “Oh! I forgot to tell you, you’re officially on the MACUSA payroll as of yesterday.”

“I work down in the room that writes the checks, you can just come and pick it up from me when it’s ready, sweetie,” Queenie winked through her shell of sweaters.

“Oh-“ in all fairness, he had completely forgotten he was being paid to be here, “thank you, I suppose.”

“Not a problem. You technically work for us now, you know.” Tina replied.

He still had a hard time believing it, but she was right.

Their conversation devolved into polite but short small talk, until eventually all three of them had finished their mugs of hot chocolate. Queenie had also handed out some crackers and cheese for a quick dinner before it got too late. After a while, his yawns reached maximum capacity, and he decided that it was time for bed. 

“Well,” he yawned widely, his jaw cracking, “I think I’m going to turn in for the night.”

“Ah, before you go, Newt,” some knitting needles had materialized and began floating around Queenie’s midsection, “you went to Hogwarts, right?”

“Yes?” he replied, not sure what she was doing.

“Hufflepuff?” she asked. 

“Yes.” he answered bluntly, still confused.

“Goodnight!” Queenie sauntered off to her room, knitting needles in tow.

“Goodnight,” he whispered to the both of them, before disappearing into his own room.

Sliding off his shoes, he practically melted into the covers. He was anxious again, worrying about the upcoming expedition, even though it was a week away. He laid flat on his stomach, head sinking into the soft pillow. He was so tired that he couldn’t even bother flipping over into a more comfortable position, and eventually his eyes closed and sleep draped over him like a blanket.

 

\-----

 

 

He woke in a cold sweat to someone knocking gently on his door.

“Newt, honey, are you alright?” it was Queenie, “it’s time to get up!”

“Y-yeah, I’ll be right out” he replied shakily.

He had been having a nightmare. This was the first nightmare he had had in years, and he suspected it had something to do with how stressed he was when he went to bed the previous night. His eyes were still bleary from sleep, and as he rubbed at them, flashes from the dream appeared vaguely in his memory. He saw flashes of Graves and the other aurors, and Queenie and Tina. What disturbed him the most was the appearance of Grindelwald, however. The pale, sharp face loomed over him with a sinister grin. Eventually he mustered up the courage to get himself up and showered, and he got ready for the day ahead.

The three of them bundled up and prepared to head out. Their walk went as usual, the streets of New York were just as hectic as they always were. However, when the three of them passed through the security checkpoint to enter the Woolworth building, what greeted them was what could best be described as pure chaos. Aurors were racing across the lobby, the air above them was absolutely congested with flying memos, and the noise level was ear splitting. 

Newt was very quickly overwhelmed and started to break out into a sweat as Tina led he and Queenie towards the line to the elevator. All of the aurors who were waiting to go up were all animatedly yelling at each other, they were all up in arms about something, but none of them could get any sort if idea what any of them were saying due to the sheer amount of _noise_.

Finally, they managed to get an elevator up to the 32nd floor; Queenie split off towards her office, and Tina led Newt directly to Graves’ office. The department of Magical Security was just as chaotic as the lobby downstairs, except it was amplified due to there being much less space. 

Tina held him by the wrist as she marched in through the open doors, “Graves, what the _flying hell_ is going on?”

Graves was standing at his desk, hands on his hips, and right on the edge of a group of his aurors; they seemed just as panicked as everyone else.

Graves whipped around to face them, his suit was disheveled and his perfectly slicked back hair was starting to fall out of place, “The auror who went missing-“

“Mendoza?” Tina asked.

“They found him,” Graves replied.

“Oh, god,” Tina said, running her hands through her already frazzled hair.

“ _Alive._ ” Graves said, running his own hand over his hair to mirror Tina, “They found him alive.”

“Mercy Lewis, _he’s alive?_ ” Tina looked like she was about to pass out.

“The team we had out combing the street, they were out for _weeks_ , and suddenly last night they find an auror hog-tied and half dead in the middle of the street,” the bags under Graves’ eyes somehow got even deeper, “god, I can’t believe this.”

“Is- is he going to be alright?” Newt probably shouldn’t have butted into the conversation, but he was slightly concerned.

“He’ll live,” Graves replied, “but he’s certainly worse for wear. I got word from the med ward this morning that they think he was tortured fairly extensively.”

Newt grimaced. The thought of anyone having to suffer through that much agony made his stomach clench.

Graves turned to Tina, “I’m headed down soon to see if he can tell us anything,”

“You sure he’s going to be up to it?” Tina asked.

“The nurses told me that he was awake this morning,” Graves paused, “though I’m not one hundred percent sure that he’ll be able to say more than a few words. It’s worth a try, though.”

Tina silently raised her eyebrows and nodded, agreeing. Graves turned to his group of aurors and mentioned for them to take over for him while he was down in the medical ward. He then turned back to Tina and Newt and nodded for them to follow him out. Navigating their way to the elevator proved to be mildly difficult, but despite a few obstacles they made it. 

The medical ward wasn’t as packed as the floors above it, but there were nurses bustling about with clipboards and carts being wheeled at breakneck speed. They entered through the threshold of the medical ward, and were greeted by the sight of a bed surrounded by ten or twelve nurses. One of the nurses, an older woman with bright orange hair and a friendly smile turned from the group to approach them.

“He’s been floating in and out of consciousness all morning,” the woman looked up from her clipboard, “but he was awake enough to tell us most of what happened.”

“Good,” Graves peered over her shoulder to get a look at the man, but the other nurses were too tightly gathered around him.

“He said he was out one night- the night he disappeared- at a bar,” she paused and looked down at her clipboard again, “and then suddenly he was in a dark room, tied up and beaten. He doesn’t remember what happened in between those two occurences.”

“Could he have been drugged or poisoned?” Graves asked, “Certainly not in Grindelwald’s list of offenses but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“That’s what we were thinking,” the woman scribbled a few things down, “we are sure he was tortured, though. Possibly for information, but we couldn’t keep him awake long enough to hear if Grindelwald got anything out of him.”

Newt looked around Graves and over the woman’s shoulder to see a small clearing in the group of nurses. The men lying in the bed looked as if he had gone through a human-sized meat grinder. His face was barely recognizable, and his nose was barely poking through a large tangle of blood soaked bandages. Tubes and metal supports snaked around the man’s torso, and his arms and legs were covered in rows of thick stitches. Some of the nurses were still sponging blood off the surface of his skin to get a better view of the still untreated injuries. 

“Jesus Christ,” Graves must have also gotten a look in-between the nurses, as he said the phrase under his breath.

“That’s all we have for now. Only the few words he’s told us and… that,” the nurse nodded back towards the sight of the mangled figure. “You should go, we’re still working on stabilizing him. We’ll let you know immediately when he’s ready to talk.”

Graves nodded and led the group out. The three of them stepped into a vacant elevator, and Tina breathed an audible sigh; whether it was out of stress or relief, he didn’t know.

“Why would he leave him alive?” Graves was thinking out loud, “ _Why_ would he leave him for us to find?”

“Maybe he was leaving a message?” Newt replied.

“The only message that sends is _‘Look how dangerous I am!’_ ”, Tina also joined the conversation, “Unless it’s a vague threat.”

“Tina, _everything_ Grindelwald does is a threat,” Graves replied, his voice thick with sarcasm, “I’m of the personal opinion that he’s doing this for attention. We’ve kept quiet about the attack for a few weeks, and he’s noticed that we’ve been ignoring him. He wants to keep his name in our mouths.”

The elevator dinged and the three of them made their way back to Graves’ office. The noise level had died down slightly- thankfully. Instead of following them into the office, Tina swept off to another part of the department, leaving Newt alone with Graves.

Newt sat down in a chair across from the desk and gently set his case down, not wanting to make too much noise. Graves threw himself down into his desk chair and heaved a long and stressful sigh, putting his head in his hands.

“Did you… stay here all night?” Newt spoke softly.

Graves sighed again, “I had to. What with… all this going on.”

“You- you look very tired.” Newt said with a worried expression.

Graves let out a breathy laugh, resting one of his hands back down on his desk, “I’m glad you could tell,”

“Are you able to rest any time soon?” he was genuinely concerned for Graves’ well being at this point, the man looked as if he were a pin-drop away from having a mental breakdown.

“If Grindelwald doesn’t decide to destroy half of the city overnight,” Graves’ voice cracked with exhaustion, “I should be able to go home and actually sleep.”

“Knock on wood, I suppose,” he said, trying to remain positive.

“That’s about the most we can do, at this point,” Graves let out a short laugh and then paused for a second, “So- to change the subject, what are your plans for the day? Anything special?”

“Ah, no,” he said with a smile, “I was just planning on getting another layer on my painting. Nothing too exciting.”

“Well, don’t have _too_ much fun,” Graves said, poking fun as he got back up from his desk, “I’ll leave you to it- I have some things to discuss down the hall with Tina’s team.”

And with that, he left, leaving Newt alone in the office.

The rest of the day went without incident. In fact, the rest of the week went without incident. The aurors seemed to calm down significantly, and things were almost immediately as quiet as they had been for the week prior. Newt spent his remaining time that week doing tedious work layering paint on the piece he had started a few days prior. He knew that oil paint took an absolutely abysmal time to dry, as he was starting to get a bit impatient and had to take an extra hour fixing one wrong brush stroke.

Everything was quiet until Friday afternoon; there was only an hour until the workday was over when a short, portly British wizard (accompanied by three out-of-breath American aurors) burst through the doors to Graves’ office, a piece of paper in hand.

“Director Graves, sir!” the man bent down to his knees to catch his breath, a few locks of greying curls fell into his face.

Graves looked up to greet the man, responding only with silent confusion.

The man huffed a bit more before continuing, “Sir, I have news from the Ministry,”

He shoved the paper in his hands towards Graves’ general direction, still thoroughly out of breath. Graves took the paper and began to silently read it.

“The expedition,” Graves said under his breath. 

“Yes! I must go, I have news to deliver elsewhere!” the man pushed his way through the accompanying aurors, running as fast as he could down the hall. The aurors at the door looked just as stunned as they were confused.

The quizzical looks from the other aurors pushed Graves to continue, “We have the go ahead to assemble the expedition team. The ministry’s team will arrive on Sunday.” 

“So when do we actually head out?” Cam appeared, hiding amongst the group standing in the doorway.

Graves gently set the paper down on his desk and folded his hands atop it, “I’ll schedule a portkey for Monday night. If we have all of our supplies gathered now, we can wait until Monday morning to round up all the aurors,” he then waved everyone out, “Go, enjoy your weekend. Monday’s going to be rough.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was gonna make this one long huge 10k chapter buuuuut it felt better split into two separate
> 
> shit's 'bout to pop the fuck off


	13. Diluent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for some graphic violence/description near the middle-ish of this chapter!

That weekend turned out to be a calm one, for Newt at least. He was home alone with Queenie; Tina was gone (presumably off running around MACUSA) and he was left to find something to do. He and Queenie actually took a trip to the zoo on Saturday afternoon. It was nice, just the two of them, to be able to walk around at their own pace and observe. He even managed to sketch a few interesting looking hippos stationed in one of the indoor exhibits.

Newt had taken the liberty of preparing the inside of his case the morning before for the trip ahead; he certainly wasn’t going to leave it in the care of an auror he didn’t know properly. All of the enclosures had been tightened down, and he prepared several days worth of food and emergency potions for at least a week. He had cleared his case of all his art supplies so that nothing would get damaged. He had even taken the time to craft a harness to hold his case together so that it could be strapped to his back and not fall off or get lost.

He also decided to do laundry since… it had been a few weeks. He washed enough grimy, blood covered clothes to last him another month, and once he was done he was quietly thankful that he did himself the favor. He helped Queenie do her and Tina’s laundry for the trip as well, and he even cleaned the kitchen for them. He felt a little guilty for not helping out while he was staying there for so long, so he really didn’t mind finally pitching in.

Sunday evening rolled around, and there was still no sign of Tina. He and Queenie were lounging around the kitchen table, sipping hot chocolate, and making idle chit chat. Newt was scribbling down some nonsensical shapes in a small sketchpad, and Queenie had her knitting needles out again. As he was sitting at the table, he idly thought about Graves. He hoped he was actually getting some rest and not over-working himself. Tina, on the other hand, seemed to be an unstoppable working machine. Sure she got tired, but once she got going on a case, it took all the weight in the world to get her to stop.

In fact, Tina didn’t show up that night until well after both he and Queenie had gone to bed. He actually woke up Monday morning to find her passed out in one of the armchairs in the living room, winter coat and hat still on. Queenie woke her up as he was getting ready, and he was greeted by the both of them as he exited his room, case in hand. Tina handed him some toast as he entered the kitchen.

“G’mornin’,” she said through a muffled bite.

“Morning,” he replied, taking the toast, “did you… get any sleep?”

“Eh, I took a few naps here and there. I’m not too tired.” She replied.

Queenie tsked, eyebrows knitted together, “You and I _both_ know that’s a lie, Tinnie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tina waved her off, grabbing her coat, “We all ready to head out?”

“Oh, Newt! I almost forgot!” Queenie exclaimed. She raced back into her room and quickly came back out to the kitchen, handing them both something, “I made everyone scarves for the trip! It’s quite chilly in Norway, I hear.”

He looked down to find a perfectly knitted sunflower yellow and grey scarf, with yarn tassels on the end. She had made him a Hufflepuff scarf.

“Queenie, thank you,” he looked back up at her, “I haven’t had a house scarf since I went to school, and I lost my other one.”

She winked at him. He remembered that she was a legilimens and she probably already knew that, hence why she made him the scarf in the first place. Tina’s scarf was a deep navy blue, to match the blue of her eyes. Queenie’s, of course, was a bright fuchsia pink.

They all threw on their coats and wrapped their new scarves around their necks, once again braving the cold walk to the Woolworth building. They entered the building, passed through the security checkpoint, and stepped into what could have possibly been the calmest day in MACUSA history. There was virtually no one in the lobby, save for the security guard, the three of them, and a few paper airplanes whizzing lazily through the air. Even the elevator attendant was nowhere in sight. 

Upon entering the 32nd floor, they were greeted by the usual amount of aurors, but this time there were piles of coats and supplies neatly stacked in various places.

Graves appeared from around the corner, pointing to one of the piles, “Supply packs for the expedition, a few day’s worth of supplies for each of us. Coffee?”

“God, yes, please,” Tina sounded like a cup of coffee was her saving grace, and it very well could have been, based on the amount of sleep she had gotten over the course of the last three days.

The coffee didn’t smell burnt this time, it actually smelled delightful. To be honest, this is the best the cafeteria’s ever smelled.

“Who…made this?” Newt said incredulously, smelling his own cup of coffee.

“The British auror team arrived last night,” Graves said through a sip, “they made us coffee this morning. I have to admit that they’re miles better at it than we are.”

Tina, Queenie, and Newt all nodded at this in unison. After they had all had their fill of coffee, they threw their cups away and Graves walked them to his office.

He sat down, his desk noticeably free of paperwork, “We’re basically all ready to go. All that’s left to do is to wait for the portkey.”

“We’ll take a few hours ahead of time to let everyone get their parkas on and strap on their packs,” Tina chimed in.

And with that, they all went about their usual business. Tina wandered off with Queenie, as usual, and Newt was again left alone with Graves. He was left without a sketchbook, so he resorted to scribbling with a stray quill and ink on some napkins from the kitchen. After a few hours, he could tell that Graves was starting to get slightly restless. His knee was bouncing rapidly, which was something he rarely ever did, and he was tapping his fountain pen against his desk impatiently.

“Is everything alright?” Newt asked.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Graves set his pen down rather forcefully, “I’m just stressed. My team has never been on a raid this far away from home and the stakes are… high.”

“Hmm,” Newt didn’t really know how to respond, “Well, we don’t know for certain that Grindelwald himself is _actually_ going to be there, right?”

“I’m almost certain that he _won’t_ ,” Graves rubbed at his temples, “If he’s busy going after an obscurial in the states, why would he go through the trouble of taking a portkey or apparating that far away each time? In any case, it’s a big facility. It’s his dim-witted lackey’s I’m worried about running into. If they’re anything like the one we encountered, they’ll be sloppy… and violent.” He stopped for a second and looked directly at Newt, squinting, “Where did you get that scarf?”

“Oh,” he looked down at the scarf still wrapped around his neck, “Queenie made it for me!”

“Ah,” Graves said, “It makes the green of your eyes stand out. I like it.”

Newt’s face flushed red at the sudden compliment, and he buried his face in his scarf, warmly content.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon consisted of more napkin scribbling, and frequent coffee breaks. As the clocks reached five o’ clock that evening, there was an uptick in the amount of auror foot traffic in the department. He looked up from his growing napkin mural to see some aurors outside the office starting to pick up and carry off a few of the supply packs.

Tina speed-walked by and yelled as she was passing, “It’s time! Let’s go!”

Graves capped his pen and stood, “Time to get our supplies and equipment situated.”

Newt nodded and hastily checked his coat pocket to make sure he had his wand before grabbing his case and following Graves out of the office. Tina was already fully bundled up and ready to go, so she led them to their packs. They were given fluffy grey parkas, which Newt zipped up over his blue coat, as he figured It couldn’t hurt to have two. He took the rest of the pack and stuffed it into his case, which was small burlap sack of food, water, and medical supplies and a roll of wool blankets. Another auror came around to everyone and handed them all snow boots. He strapped his case to his back and made sure to double check that he had his wand stashed away in his coat; he did, thankfully.

The whole process of getting everyone dressed and situated took a solid hour and a half, and once both teams were done, they all made the trek back down to the floo chamber.

A tall, lanky wizard with curly dark hair greeted them as they entered, guiding them towards the center of the room. Sitting perfectly in the center of the chamber were two objects: a rusty old cooking pot and a torn leather boot.

“I assume you all know how portkeys work, correct?” the auror that greeted them spoke in a thick Danish accent, “Each team has their own portkey. Both go to the same location, but we couldn’t fit twenty of you on one object. You’re going to link elbows and all grab the objects in front of you at the same time, exactly at seven o’ clock. Good luck.”

And with that, he curtly walked away from them and out of the chamber. They all turned to each other, already having split into their two respective groups. Graves’ group was assigned the rusty cooking pot. Cam had the job of being the timekeeper, and once the time was right, they all linked arms and grabbed on. Newt had only taken a portkey once before this, and back then he was only five or six years old. His parents took the family to a Quiddich World Cup one year and he vaguely remembers vomiting all over his second cousin.

Thankfully, this time he didn’t vomit. Their landing was firm, not enough to snap his knees out of existence, but just enough that his leg injury got slightly irritated. The first thing that hit him after he hit the ground was the _mind numbing cold_. It was pitch black, and an auror from the group muttered a quick _“lumos!”_ , and a shaky light encapsulated them. Newt could see the large flakes of snow appearing once they hit the ring of light, and he looked down to find his boots completely covered in snow up to his calves.

The group of British aurors also began to light their wands, and they crunched their way through the snow over towards the rest of them them, having landed not too far away.

One of the British aurors yelled over the wind, “The sled dogs should be here any moment now!” 

Graves gave a small hand signal in approval and tightened his hood. Newt did the same and pulled his hood up and over his head, attempting to seal in the body heat to keep his ears from falling off. He was glad that he wore an extra wool coat under his parka.

After a few agonizingly cold minutes of waiting, the faint sound of barking could be heard on the horizon, and four seated sleds led by a pack of huskies pulled up along side them. The sleds’ operator, a short parka-clad house elf, climbed down from his perch atop one of the sleds to shake Graves’ hand. The two of them yelled over the wind at each other for a few minutes, and then the house elf signaled for them all to get in.

Newt was one of the last people to board their group’s sled, Graves waited for him to go first before sliding in next to him. The sleds were slightly too small to fit them, but they all managed to cram in like sardines. Graves was uncomfortably close, except this time it’s wasn’t uncomfortable. He was nervous about what laid ahead, and he very much appreciated the hand resting gently on his leg.

“ ‘old on!” the house elf yelled before turning and giving the dogs the signal to run.

As they began moving, Newt pulled his scarf up over his mouth and nose, preparing to protect it from the icy wind. As the dogs built up speed, the air started to feel like knives against the bits of his skin that weren’t covered. It felt like they were moving for days, but after a couple of hours the sleds started to slow down. A large, black shape began to form on the horizon, but he couldn’t make out what it was because of all the snow.

The house elf pulled the sleds up behind a large group of jagged rocks poking out of the snow, just on the outskirts of whatever the shape was. The sleds came to a full stop and Graves immediately got out and thanked the house elf, who got back in his sled and waved them off, disappearing.

The jagged rocks blocked the wind just enough to where they could finally hear each other talk. Graves pulled down the grey woolen scarf covering his face and lowered his hood, waving everyone around him as he crouched down to ensure they were all hidden behind the rock face.

“Alright,” Graves exhaled a deep, shivering breath, “We have an hour to clear this place out before the sun sets. We have no idea how many of Grindelwald’s supporters will be in there, or how aggressively that’ll act when we enter. Take your time clearing rooms and be on your guard. My team will take the eastern half of the building and the ministry’s team will take the western half. We’ll apparate in pairs right up to the wall and then we’ll blast a hole in it.”

Newt felt Graves grab his wrist and they all stood up in agreement. In the few seconds he had left before they apparated, he looked over the short rock face to get a look at the building. The snow had broken for a short moment and the sheer magnitude of the compound poked through the white haze and planted an uneasy pit into his stomach. A short “pop” later, he was face to face with an ice covered brown brick wall. He felt a second hand grasp his shoulder, and he looked back up at Graves, who nodded at him.

They were officially separated from the other team, who had taken their position on the other side of the building. Graves, Tina, and Cam drew their wands as everyone stood back; the three of them stood in front of the remaining group and all at once fired off an explosive spell. Fontaine cast a protective ward around all ten of them to shield them from the blast and the broken chunks of brick and ice that were now raining down from every direction. 

“Go, everyone in!” Graves yelled, and the group surged forward over the smoldering rubble into the building.

Newt drew his wand, but everything began happening too fast for him to even think about reacting. Upon entering through the wall, they were immediately met by about a dozen or so wizards, who began firing off curses left and right. Chunks of the walls and ceilings began to break off and fall on them, a few of their aurors now sporting some deep cuts to the head. In an effort to protect the team and to avoid having to fight in combat, Newt cast a shield above their heads to prevent any further head injuries.

After a brief minute or so of sparring, the wizards that greeted them were taken care of; some were unconscious (and being put into handcuffs), and some were lying dead on the floor, having been crushed by falling debris. Promptly after that skirmish was settled, their group split off, each auror taking a different corridor to clear out. Newt was anxious at being separated, but he knew that he had to push on to get them all out of that hellhole as fast as possible.

He followed another auror down a dark sticky hallway, who then directed him to an adjacent corridor that wasn’t being cleared. Wand held out in front of him, he prepared for the worst. The corridor was impossibly dark, and he lit his wand so that he wouldn’t tragically trip over his own two feet. The walls were getting closer together the farther the walked, and the surface was covered in a shiny dank grime. By the time he had reached the end of the passage, the sounds of the chaos behind him began to muffle, and was instead replaced by the sound of his own heavy breathing and a few icy drips of water coming from above.

The passage led to a dead end, forking off into two other hallways, right and left. He paused for a moment in the middle of the fork, listening. It was _far_ too quiet. A few distant explosions sounded off and shook the ground beneath him, but there was absolutely nothing to be heard on his end. He decided to take a chance and go left. Acting with caution in mind, he decided to dim his wand a bit, in an effort to get the high ground on whatever –or whoever- might be lurking down here. The path he had chosen led to another dead end, but this time it was different. There was no fork at the end of this hall, but instead a slimy looking spiral staircase led into the floor. He could see a dim flickering light from below the staircase, and he put his wand out.

The stairs looked slick with grime, some of which looked like it could have been old coagulated blood –he didn’t really want to think about that. He took the first five or six steps down slowly, careful to not slip. He could hear faint voices coming from the direction of the light, but he couldn’t make out anything they were saying. He took a few more quiet steps down to see three large men, standing around what appeared to be a pile of clothing and artifacts. The three of them had their backs turned to him, but as he raised his wand to cast a body-bind spell, his heel crunched down on something beneath his foot.

“Oi!” One of the men whipped around, alerting his companions with a yelp.

The wizard flung a curse at him, which he deflected with a shield, but the force of the curse pushed him backwards just enough to cause him to lose his footing. His feet flung out from underneath him, and the curse deflected upwards, causing one of the steps to collapse on top of him. His shoulder hit the stairs underneath him hard, and as he finally reached the ground, he smacked the back of his head with enough force to fully knock the wind out of his lungs.

Fight or flight kicked in, causing his wand arm to act completely independently of the rest of his bruised body, and he flung a curse back at them. The curse only managed to hit one of them, and conveniently it was the one who had spotted him on the staircase. The curse hit the man directly between the eyes, causing his skull to explode upon impact, covering Newt and the other two men in blood and brain matter.

The other two shrieked in horror, and flung out random hexes in his general direction. He managed to deflect them both with a quick shield, sending the hexes back in the direction they came. One hex hit one of them in the leg, causing his pant leg to burn off and his skin to break out in painful red boils. The other hex hit the wall two inches from the other man’s temple sending debris flying. Newt managed to fire off a successful full-body bind spell, hitting the uninjured man square in the chest and sending him toppling to the floor face first.

The only one left to deal with was the one currently screaming in pain as his leg slowly melted away. As he raised his wand for the final time, the man dropped his own wand, and fell unconscious from the pain.

Newt’s head was still spinning, and he lay there on the cold stone for a few seconds before picking himself up and hauling his weight onto his elbows. His vision came back into focus, and he looked down at himself; his parka was covered in bright red bloodstains, brain matter, and pieces of bone. Thankfully, he avoided vomiting as he picked himself up onto his feet. He could hear distant booms above him, from the other aurors, water began dripping more forcefully from the ceiling as it shook violently. He needed to push on, and he gritted through the pain now shooting through his shoulder.

The area he found himself in resembled something of a dungeon, and shooting off in opposite directions of the room he was in with the spiral staircase, there were two more hallways. One was slightly more lit than the other, and he decided to take that one. This corridor was different than the others he had gone down; this one was lined with jail cells. A horrible smell hit him immediately upon entering the passage, and it smelled of the worst kinds of rot imaginable. It smelled like death.

All of the jail cells were empty, apart from some disgusting dark stains smeared across the floors. The hall seemed to lead on forever, until he reached a dead end. There was a single door looming in front of him. The door was a heavy rusted metal, fortified by what looked like several layers of both internal and external locks. He put his ear up to the door to see if he could hear anything, and he swore he could hear breathing inside.

Taking his ear away from the door, his eyes fell on the ground underneath his feet. The stone was cracked, and there were fingernail marks gouged into the rock. _There was no way a human wizard made those marks_ , he thought to himself. Whatever was behind that door was clearly valuable to Grindelwald, and was clearly very dangerous.

He stood for a moment, debating on whether or not to try and unlock it. They had to clear every room, and this room could have some sort of prisoner in need of rescuing. He couldn’t just leave them to die with the building. He decided to test one of the locks with his wand, but as soon as he touched the tip to it, a jolt of electricity shocked him and forced him to jump back. This was going to take some extra help. He put his wand away and slid his case off of his back and out of the harness. He climbed down and retrieved Pickett, who began to make quick work of the locks.

As he was strapping the case back onto his back, he heard clattering and cursing coming down the hallway, from the room he had just come from.

“Newt?” it was Graves.

“I’m down here!” he called back.

He turned back around to make sure Pickett was alright and kept an ear trained on Graves’ footsteps approaching from behind.

“The hell is this?” Graves was out of breath, and sporting a very large cut on one of his cheekbones.

“I don’t know,” he replied, “but I swear I heard someone inside.”

“Well, whatever’s in there is clearly important,” Graves inspected the locks a little closer, “Jesus, there must be twenty locks on this thing.”

“They’re all magic-proof, I tried,” he said, “Oh, and er… sorry for the mess… out there.”

“I’m glad you brought bowtruckles, then,” Graves replied, “and don’t worry about the mess. It’s nothing compared to the hell that’s upstairs.”

The final lock popped open and Pickett climbed back up his arm and into one of his sleeves. The door groaned as if years of rust were being disturbed. Both of them combined their strength to pull the door open, which creaked and crunched until they were able to get through it.

The room inside was completely pitch black. There were no windows or light fixtures, it was complete darkness. Newt quickly lit his wand to find an entirely empty room- but it wasn’t a normal room. The ceiling, walls, and floor were entirely made of metal- the same metal as the door was made of. There was nothing in the room, or at least that’s what they thought until a weak rasping came from a darkened corner. He aimed his wand in that direction, and what they saw was horrifying. There was a person. One single person, chained to the floor, and emaciated. It was a young woman- she appeared to be in her mid to late twenties- with long curly black hair that reached her waist. He chains around her wrists were also metal, to match the room, and had been chained so tightly that they were cutting into the skin.

The woman’s breathing sounded raspy, but deliberate. She didn’t appear to be injured (apart from the chains around her wrists), but she looked very weakened. Her head tilted up towards them and the light shined on her eyes; they were a bright, almost neon green.

“Shit…” Graves cursed under his breath, slightly lowering his wand.

“We have to get the chains off,” Newt quickly pulled Pickett back out of his sleeve and stepped towards the woman on the floor.

“Careful,” Graves had also lit his wand to try and provide a little more light.

Pickett had the chains unlocked in a matter of seconds, and as soon as he jumped into one of Newt’s open pockets, the woman began pulling and clawing at the cuffs.

“Whoa, hey, take it slow,” Graves crouched down to help take the cuffs off, taking his supply pack off his back and setting it down beside him.

The cuffs had been on so long, and locked so tightly, that the raw skin underneath had scabbed over. When they gently pulled them off, a few layers of skin were peeled with it, blood trickling down her arms from the now open wounds. Graves began to reach into his bag to try and find his first aid kit.

“W- water…” the woman spoke, her voice rasping as if her throat hadn’t been used in decades.

Newt acted quickly and pulled out his canteen, uncapping it and handing it over. However, instead of taking the canteen, she instead reached her hands out in a cupping motion. Water from the canteen flowed freely, wrapping itself in long thin strands around the woman’s hands and arms. The water sunk into the surface of her skin, and the wounds on her wrists closed and healed over with fresh new skin.

Graves physically jumped back at this, in complete surprise, “Wh-“

“We must go, quickly,” the woman dragged herself to her feet. She had a European accent, but he couldn’t place it.

Newt let her grab onto his shoulder for stability. He turned to Graves, “Percival, we should get her out,”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” Graves still looked a little shaken, but his steely exterior was starting to come back.

Graves took her other arm and wrapped it around his shoulder, helping Newt walk her out of the metal chamber and down the hallway. As they entered the light, he got a bit of a better look at her. She was wearing raggedy ripped clothing, caked in dirt, and intricate tribal tattoos wrapped themselves around what he could see of her forearms. Her skin was tan, or what he guessed what was supposed to be tan, as she looked a little pale; he didn’t know if it was from not seeing sunlight or from malnutrition, but either way it concerned him.

“What did you do to the staircase?” Graves asked him as they approached what remained of the spiral stairs.

“I… fell,” He said. It wasn’t a _complete_ lie.

Graves repaired part of the missing steps and they pulled the woman up, trying their best to not slip on the blood and slime.

“When I came down here looking for you, they had the building completely cleared,” Graves grunted as they reached the top of the stairs, “We should be ready to make our way out by now, we have portkeys waiting in a nearby village.”

The three of them limped their way to where their group had started, and the sight that greeted them was absolute hell. There were bodies strewn everywhere, blood streaked the ceilings, and the walls were beginning to crumble from the amount of damage they had taken. Bits and pieces of various undetermined limbs were littered within the carnage, and it was beginning to smell. The cold was creeping in from the giant hole they had made in the side of the compound, and snowflakes began to flutter in front of their faces. 

“Graves! We’re ready to get the hell out of here-“ Cam was sporting a nasty gash across the bridge of their nose, and they were nursing their right arm, “Who the fuck is this?" 

“Language, Cam,” Graves said, exasperated, “Is everyone here?”

“No casualties, we’re all here and ready to go,” Tina spoke up. Her voice sounded nasally, as she tried to speak through a bloody nose. “All the lackeys we managed to catch alive have already been apparated back to MACUSA.”

“Good, let’s get out,” They all pulled their hoods up and made their way back out into the snow. All twenty of them seemed to be nursing some sort of injury, and some of the worst were tracking bright red blood through the white snow. They apparated in pairs of two and three back to the small rock face they had started at.

“We have to collapse the building, quick, before any of them return!” one of the older looking British aurors yelled through his parka hood.

Suddenly, the woman Newt and Graves were holding on to broke free from their hold, grabbing on to the rock face for support. She was able to lift herself into a fully standing position a lot more easily now, appearing to have gotten stronger.

“Hey, wait-“ Graves tried to grab her to stop her from injuring herself, but she was already too far out of their grasp.

“This place…” she spoke, voice just slightly audible over the wind, “This _hell_... I will destroy it." 

Newt watched as her angered grip became tighter on the rocks, so tight it was causing them to crack under her fingers. She limped through the snow several feet more in front of the rock face, and raised her hands towards the compound. The ground underneath their feet began to vibrate violently. Newt could feel magic, like electricity, zipping through the cracks that began to form like a current. It felt intense- it felt _powerful_ \- and it was beginning to overwhelm his senses.

Out from where her feet were positioned, large cracks in the earth opened up, headed in the direction of Nurmengard. All at once, with a boom louder than anything Newt had ever witnessed, the building collapsed in on itself. It looked as if the earth had swallowed it whole, and after a few seconds, there was nothing remaining on the ground it once stood on.

“Holy shit…” Cam had pulled down their parka to get a better look at the raw show of power.

“C’mon! We have to go, and you’re coming with us!” Graves yelled out to the woman, who now made her way back to them with ease and comfort, also completely unbothered by the cold.

Their portkeys had been dropped back off by the house elf with the dog sleds, and they again formed their groups and held on tight. Their landing inside the floo chamber was a rough one, they appeared a good five feet above the ground, and they all crashed to the ground in a giant lump.

Breathing heavily, Tina shouted, “Get everyone to the med ward, go!”

She picked everyone up and led them all out of the floo chamber, still trailing blood from her face behind her. The only three that remained were Graves, Newt, and the strange woman.

“You,” Graves winced as he picked himself up from the ground, pointing to the woman, “Do you have a name?”

“…” The woman paused, “Elliott.”

“Great to meet you,” Graves held out his hand, still in pain and out of breath, and she took it and shook it, “We should get you to the medical ward too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today's hidden chapter title meaning is: a diluent is a substance that is used to dilute, thin, or weaken another substance (such as paint... or dark wizards)


	14. Cadmium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a fluffier hurt/comfort chapter as a sort of...apology for last chapter's gore haha

The three of them collected themselves and made the walk to the elevator to assist Elliott down to the medical ward. They left her with the two nearest available nurses, who whisked her off into the back away from the other beds for testing. They were checked and re-checked by four different medics before they were released, and when they were finally free, the two of them stood alone together just outside the entrance to the medical bay.

“C’mon,” Graves said quietly, softly grabbing his arm and leading him away.

It was clear that he was absolutely drained of energy. Even his walk was lacking his typical crispness, usually the heels of his wing tipped shoes clipped neatly against the marble flooring, but now his heels were scraping weakly along the floor. They took a quiet elevator ride back up to the 32nd floor, and Graves led him into his empty office and shut the door behind him. Graves let out a long sigh of disgust and resignation and backed himself up to the wall, sliding down until he was on the floor.

“Sit with me, Newt,” he said.

Newt followed suit, pulling off his two layers of coats for more comfort, and gently taking a seat next to Graves on the floor. The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at their feet and listening to the quiet hum of the ventilation system. He had to admit that he missed that sound. It was nice for things to finally be quiet again. There was nothing to worry about in that moment, no expeditions, no attacks, nothing.

He looked over at Graves, who had his eyes closed, and his head was resting against the wall behind him. His breathing was steady and relaxed, although he looked anything but. Bright purple and blue bruises were starting to blossom across his face, and the cut on his cheekbone appeared red and irritated from the few stitches he was now sporting.

Graves opened his eyes ant turned his head over towards him, “You’re alright?”

“As alright as I can be,” he looked down at his hands, which were raw with cuts and scrapes from when he fell, some of them obscured by small bandages.

Graves took his hand in his own, barely touching the surface of the skin with his fingers. Slowly, he took his other hand, carefully running his fingers over his scabbed knuckles, lightly intertwining their fingers together. After a few moments, he calmly pulled Newt towards him, wrapping his arms around his waist.

 

Newt slid his arms around Graves’ middle, resting his shoulders on his chest, and nuzzling his nose into the side of his neck. Even though they both smelled of blood, dirt, and grime, it was wonderful. Graves rested one hand on the small of his back and brought one hand up to gently rest on the back of his head, his fingers tangled in his hair.

“Have you ever… killed anyone?” Newt mumbled into Graves’ neck, “As an auror, I mean.”

“Oh, Newt,” Graves breathed out into the side of his head, burrowing his nose into his hair, “Once you’ve been working in this position as long as I have, you lose count. After the first two or three you sort of… become numb to it.”

Newt stayed silent.

Graves continued, “You’re worried.”

“I’m always worried,” he stated, unfortunately completely truthfully.

“No, you’re worried about that wizard, the one back at Nurmengard,” Graves voice was just above a whisper, “The one that attacked you in the basement.”

“There were three of them,” Newt started to feel his eyes welling up; he really didn’t feel like crying today.

“They _attacked_ you.”

“I could have restrained them… I, I- I tried,” he was fully crying now, tears starting to soak into the collar of Graves’ white shirt.

“Hey, hey,” Graves rubbed the back of his head, “I know it feels bad. Crushingly, horribly bad. But… they attacked you with the intent to _kill_ you. Did you feel like your life was in immediate danger?" 

“Y- yes,” he whispered.

“Then you have every right to do what you did,” Graves spoke with every ounce of genuine care he had in his voice, “You were defending yourself. This won’t just go away, I know. It’ll take time… to come to terms with it. You’re allowed to process it and take as much time as you need, if you want space just… let me know.”

“No, no, I- I don’t want to be alone,” he attempted to wipe his face dry but he ended up sniffling a lot.

Graves kept his breathing steady, remaining deliberately calm, and held him in his lap until his breathing finally slowed.

Newt stayed buried in the crook of Graves’ neck for at least an hour. He stayed like that until he could feel the other man’s body heat seeping in through the many layers of clothing in-between them. He felt warm, comforted, and safe. He buried his nose in Grave’s shirt collar, trying to drink in as much of his scent as possible, to try and distract his thoughts from the horrible images that were now imprinted on the inside of his skull. He had forgotten that he had spent the vast majority of his adult life alone, and in that moment he decided that he never wanted to feel that crushing void ever again.

He was just on the verge of falling asleep; the warmth was lulling him into a very pleasant relaxation. He was stirred out of his stupor when he felt Graves shifting underneath him, and he lifted his head up to see what was wrong.

“Sorry,” Graves mumbled groggily, “m’leg’s asleep.”

“I can move,” he said, shifting his weight off of Graves’ lap, “I should probably get up anyway.”

Newt shuffled himself a few feet away and stood up, stretching out his legs. Graves stretched his arms above his head before yawning and smoothing his hair back. Newt grabbed his hand and helped him to his feet, and Graves clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Graves took his hand of Newt’s shoulder and shrugged off his coat, “Let’s go get some coffee. Something might do us some good.”

Newt nodded in agreement, a boiling hot cup of coffee sounded like the best thing in the world to him at the moment. The sharp chill of the cold Norwegian air was still nipping at his toes, which hadn’t quite thawed out yet. Graves opened his office door and led him out towards the cafeteria.

The horridly bitter smell of burnt coffee wafted through the air again. At least _that_ part of the department was back to normal. He poured himself a paper cup and tried to dump as much milk as he could to try and mask the bitterness. It didn’t work; all the milk in the universe could not have hidden the prickly acidity that this coffee was laced with.

Still, a warm liquid was a welcome taste, so he tried his best to ignore the terrible flavor and he sucked down his drink. Halfway through their coffee break, they were greeted by the appearance of Cam, whose expression was entirely unreadable but still somehow mildly annoyed. The usual.

“Doctors need you in the med ward,” they nodded at Graves, who simply nodded in return with raised eyebrows.

 

 -----

 

They entered the medical ward and were immediately led over to a bed by a familiar nurse with a clipboard. She led them over to Mendoza’s bed. As they broke through the ever-present ring of doctors and nurses who stood over him, they could see that he was awake. His face had healed enough to finally give him the ability to open his eyes and speak.

Graves shooed off as many nurses as he could and pulled up a chair for himself and for Newt.

“Mendoza, you feeling alright?” Graves asked, donning his Professional Auror mask once again.

The man in the bed scoffed sarcastically, “Only as good as a man can feel in this condition.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re alive, at the very least,” Graves said, “Do you remember _anything_?”

“Good lord, no,” Mendoza huffed, “Well, not much at least. I remember getting the _shit_ beaten out of me. Several times.”

“That’s very apparent,” Graves deadpanned.

“Uh,” Mendoza sat in thought for a moment, eyebrows joined together in concentration, “Well, the day they grabbed me… I remember walking home. Went to a bar, got a few drinks. I got a hot dog on the way home and I don’t remember ever getting to eat it. Bastards.”

“We think they could have poisoned one of your drinks,” Graves suggested.

“Probably,” Mendoza replied, “I remember them… dragging me somewhere? The ground was cold and wet. They threw me in a room and kept me drugged. They only ever came back in to beat information out of me.”

“What information did you give them?” panic flickered briefly in Graves’ steady voice.

“I-“ Mendoza let his head fall back on this pillow, “I… they wanted to know where the most of us would be at one time.”

“The Woolworth building.”

“I’m sorry,” Mendoza sighed, his apology dripped with guilt.

Graves shook his head, “No, don’t apologize. They beat you within an inch of your life, and more than once at that. Besides, you couldn’t have known what they would do with what you told them.”

“What… what did they do?” Mendoza asked.

“There was only one,” Graves sighed and rubbed his forehead, “Grindelwald sent one of his goons to try and blow up the lobby. We handled it, don’t worry.”

Mendoza looked down at his feet, worried.

“Wait,” Newt butted in to the conversation, “So… the sketch composite. The drawing didn’t prompt the attack?”

“Drawing?” Mendoza asked, now confused.

“This is Newt Scamander,” Graves nodded his head in Newt’s direction, “He’s an artist. We hired him to take a few no-maj witness accounts from Grindelwald’s last incident and do a sketch composite. We made some wanted posters and hung them up, and not even a day later we were attacked.”

“Kid’s got impeccable timing, at least,” Mendoza replied, only half joking.

Graves continued, “It certainly seems coincidental. The posters certainly caught Grindelwald’s attention but… I don’t think the attack on MACUSA was directly caused by them.” 

Newt was only half relieved to hear this. While it was nice to hear that his art hadn’t been the direct cause of those aurors’ deaths, he still felt guilty to have been involved at the very least.

“Hm,” Mendoza mumbled, “Never actually got to see the bastard himself, though. Wish I could have, I’d have throttled him. Or tried to, at least.”

“Do you know the name of the place you were taken to?” Graves asked.

“No,” Mendoza replied, “I swear I thought I overheard a couple of his goonies talking about the place, though. Never caught a name, but they seemed to be using it as a giant prison of some sort.”

“Nurmengard.” Graves said. 

“Nurmenwhat?” Mendoza was confused again.

“Nurmengard. It’s a place where Grindelwald keeps his enemies. Sort of like a giant prison, yes,” Graves replied, rubbing at the five o’ clock shadow that was starting to sprout, “My team and a few British aurors leveled the place a few hours ago. Did you… _hear_ anything about any of the other prisoners?”

“Mmm, no, not much of anything. I was mostly unconscious. Most of what I could hear was muffled through a metal door,” Mendoza said, “Why?”

“We’re fairly certain that Grindelwald also used Nurmengard as a sort of… safety deposit box,” Graves continued, “We found a woman chained up in one of the lower levels. She’s not a normal witch, she’s about twenty times as powerful as both you and me combined, and she completely leveled the place in about fifteen seconds. We think that he was keeping her there as some sort of weapon to be used at a later point.”

“Mercy Lewis…” Mendoza whispered, then spoke up, “I didn’t hear nothin’ about any of that, or about anybody being kept in the basement.”

“Hmm, I figured,” Graves said, “Is there anything else you know?”

“No, that’s it,” Mendoza did his best to offer a shrug, “Sorry, sir.”

 “Don’t worry about it,” Graves patted his shoulder as he got up from his chair, “Get some rest.”

 The ring of nurses descended upon the bed like vultures the minute they stepped away, and Graves stopped one of the doctors by the elbow, “Where’s the woman we brought in earlier?”

 “The one with the freakishly green eyes?” the young man asked rather rudely.

 “Yes,” graves huffed in annoyance at the doctor’s bluntness, “The one named Elliott.”

 “In the back,” the man pointed his thumb behind him towards a section of the medical ward that was hidden by a nondescript white curtain before shoving his face back into his clipboard and pushing his way back over to Mendoza’s bed.

 Graves strode his way back to the curtain, Newt close behind. They opened the curtain, passing by many beds full of sleeping aurors, until they reached the back of the ward. They reached a single bed that was curtained off, and Graves raised an eyebrow at a nearby clipboard-clad nurse to signal a question that this was who he was looking for. The nurse read his signal and finished scribbling down a few more words before pulling the curtain open.

 Elliott was sitting on the foot of the bed, scratching a pencil on a stolen doctor’s clipboard. She looked up to greet the both of them, looking quite bored.

 “We checked her over a dozen times,” the nurse with the clipboard spoke up, “No injuries in sight.”

 Graves looked confused and turned his confusion towards Elliott.

“I healed myself.” She went back to scribbling on the clipboard again.

“How?” Graves questioned pointedly, “You don’t have a wand.” 

“Water.” She said, matching Graves’ bluntness. 

Graves tried looking at the nurse for an explanation, but she simply shrugged and awkwardly shuffled away towards a cart full of metal instruments in an attempt to avoid confrontation. Graves turned back to face the bed and sighed loudly, going back to the old habit of rubbing at his forehead.

Suddenly, something in Newt’s brain clicked. He remembered a short lesson he had learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts right before he had gotten expelled; a lesson on endangered species.

“Percival,” Newt stated, trying to get Graves’ attention.

“Is something wrong?” Graves turned to him, concern etched into his face. 

“No, no, nothing’s wrong, but-” he stuttered trying not to talk too fast, “Have you ever heard of an elemental?”

“An… _elemental_?” Graves asked, a little more alarmed this time.

He fidgeted with his hands slightly before continuing, “An elemental is a magical human who draws their power from the natural elements… she probably healed herself by drawing energy from the snow we were standing in.” 

“I know what an elemental is, we learned about them in school,” Graves’ voice became a little firmer, “Newt, elementals have been extinct for over a thousand years.”

“We went extinct because we were forced out of our homeland,” Elliott snapped the pencil she was holding in anger, “Non magical people hunted us down like animals.”

“Elementals are some of the most dangerous beings on the planet,” Graves responded.

“We only wanted to live our lives in peace,” she spat back, her voice now seething with anger, “Instead we were murdered for simply existing. We never asked to be burdened with these abilities.”

“That’s why Grindelwald wanted to keep you captive…” Graves spoke calmly.

“He wanted to use me as a weapon,” she said, “Obviously I never cooperated.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Graves said, “Did he mention anything to you about obtaining other weapons? Anything about an obscurial?”

“He said he had…others, but I didn’t know what he meant by that at the time,” she replied. 

“Shit,” Graves cursed under his breath.

Newt put his hand on Graves arm in an attempt to prevent him from getting too anxious, “We may still have time to get to Credence.”

“God, I hope so. That poor kid doesn’t deserve to be manipulated like that,” Graves turned and pointed at Elliott, “I’m going to assign you to stay under protective custody with one of my aurors, Cam. Somebody here can help you find them, I… need some sleep.”

Graves led him out of the ward by the arm, and once they were alone in the elevator he moved his grip down to his hand.

“Newt,” Graves’ voice was barely audible over the screech of the elevator, “Would you mind staying with me tonight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the concept of an "elemental" is something i've been wanting to play around with in the harry potter universe for a while?? i like to think of them as magical humans who draw their energy from the natural elements (i.e water, earth, fire, air). an elemental could tear the earth in half, if they wanted to, and have largely been hunted and shunned because of fear mongering by other wizards. most of them were hunted and killed and there's only one left (elliott), but she was captured by grindelwald at a young age in an attempt to be groomed towards the dark arts (basically it was a power grab). in short: elementals are some of the most powerful magical beings on the planet and are not anything that should be fucked with
> 
> i hope that made sense? i literally just made all this shit up so uh
> 
> ....this tag only updates like. once every two days. i'm dying y'all. the next chapter might...get a little randy. the boys need some down time if you know what i mean


	15. Belle Époque

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sexual content, ahoy

Just before he left, he made sure to tell Tina and Queenie where he was going this time. He didn’t want to worry them by suddenly disappearing and not coming home… again. When he reached the two of them, Queenie was all but dragging an exhausted Tina out of the lobby. She simply winked at him and waved him off, going back to trying to deal with her lump of a sister.

By the time he and Graves exited the Woolworth building, the sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, and the skies were stained the color of cotton candy. The swirling colors and fluffy clouds reminded him of the circus he saw with his parents when he was young; he also reminded himself that circuses were drastically inhumane, regardless of the sickly enjoyable smell of sweets that always hung in the air.

Graves grasped his hand and swept him into the nearest alleyway that was out of sight, and he apparated the both of them to the familiar dark hallway inside of his home. Graves planted a quick peck on the corner of Newt’s mouth, however it was over too quickly for Newt to lean into it, and Graves was sweeping towards to kitchen before he even had a chance to blink.

“What’s your favorite kind of tea?” Graves asked as he led him into the kitchen, flicking the lights on with a wave of his hand.

“Earl grey,” he answered, “with milk and sugar.”

Graves breathed a small laugh through his nostrils, “Well, lucky for you I happen to have some.”

“You don’t seem like the kind of American to have proper tea in his home,” Newt teased.

“Hey,” Graves teased right back, “Americans are allowed to like tea too.”

Graves turned around and flashed a toothy grin at him, and his face heated.

“Fair enough,” Newt said, taking a seat at the table after hanging his coat on the back of the chair.

A few lingering chuckles escaped from Graves, who took a kettle out from a cabinet above his sink and began to heat up some water. He filled the kettle and clicked on the stovetop, setting it down on the burner and taking a seat.

Graves breathed a heavy sigh, running his hands over his face and briefly forgetting not to disturb the stitches he had holding his cut together. He winced, sniffling slightly in pain, and rested his hands back down on the table. Fidgeting for a moment, he decided to carefully rest his head in one of his hands.

“I am _not_ looking forward to the mountain of paperwork that’s waiting for me when I get back,” Graves groaned.

“Why do they make you do so much of it?” Newt asked, “It seems like the Grindelwald case has been the only one open for years.”

“For the most part is has been,” Graves said, “But we do also deal with missing persons cases and general security breaches from time to time. Usually from wizards who have a bit too much to drink and get caught with alcohol by the No-Maj police.”

“It’s…not legal here? To drink, I mean.” Newt questioned.

“No, alcohol is prohibited,” Graves replied, “Mostly for No-Majs, though. The American wizarding community is a little more lax with… beverages. It’s generally frowned upon to be seen drinking but we’re allowed to purchase it.”

“Hm,” Newt hummed, “England doesn’t have any sort of restrictions like that.”

The kettle started to screech behind them, which prompted Graves to haul himself up out of his chair and grab some mugs. He placed their teabags carefully inside of the mugs and poured the boiling water on top of them. Newt made a mental note that he was very pleased that Graves knew the proper way to make tea. Graves placed his mug in his spot on the table and slit Newt’s towards him. He reached over to the counter and slid him a small ceramic container of sugar and a spoon, and grabbed a small carton of milk out of the refrigerator.

“I figured you would want to make your cup the way you like it,” Graves said, handing him the carton of milk.

“I would, thank you,” Newt smiled, starting to fix his tea. Once he had it exactly the way he liked it, he handed the milk and sugar back over to Graves, who simply bypassed both ingredients and put them back in their places in the fridge and on the counter. Newt noticed that he liked his tea _very_ dark. He didn’t add any sugar or milk at all; he was enjoying it in its purest form. Even though Newt didn’t particularly enjoy his tea this way, it caused a warmth to bubble up in his stomach.

His tea was at the perfect temperature, and after the day he just had, it was a godsend. Graves took a long sip of his tea, set his cup down, and began his habit of rubbing the creases in his forehead.

“I… do hope you’re feeling alright?” Newt worried. 

“I’m alright, for now,” Graves said, sighing, “But… this is only going to get worse, I hope you know that.”

“It can only get worse until we catch him,” Newt offered.

“Or until he’s dead,” Graves practically spat the last word out with more malice than Newt had ever heard him utter.

“I wholeheartedly agree with you on that, but…” he hesitated, “let’s change the subject.”

Graves sighed, “You’re absolutely right. We should relax tonight instead of worrying about all of this… bullshit.”

Newt smiled back in an attempt to lighten the mood, and Graves got up from his seat, tea unfinished. Newt quickly downed the dregs that still lingered in the bottom of his cup, and followed him out of the room.

“This cold weather is really dampening my mood lately,” Graves said, leading Newt into the living room, “I’m going to start a fire.”

Newt took a careful seat on the couch, watching Graves roll his sleeves up and start to load wood into the fireplace. Once he thought he had added enough wood, he pulled out his wand and lit the flame. The fire sparked to life almost immediately, engulfing the room in a warm red glow. The sudden heat of the fire flushed Newt’s cheeks, making his freckles pop out against his skin. Graves sheathed his wand back into his pocket and took a seat next to Newt, leaning back on the couch with a tired sigh.

"I don't get much time for relaxation, you know," Graves tilted his head towards him from where it was rested on the back of the couch. 

"I can't imagine," he replied, "being the director of magical security and everything."

Graves sighed and looked up at the ceiling, "...Yeah."

He saw Graves' head tilt back over to him, but there was something in his eyes that was... different. His eyes lingered on him, and had a glint in them that sent a searing heat through Newt's stomach. Graves closed the gap between them and gripped his forearm, pressing the bridge of his nose against Newt's. His breath hitched in his chest as Grave's body inched even closer to his, his knees working their way in-between his legs. His breathing was starting to pick up the pace, and he felt his arms begin to tingle as Graves moved his head to the crook of his neck, breathing him in as he planted a few kisses behind his ear.

"You're very beautiful, you know," Graves' voice was nothing but a low rumble, which reverberated throughout his chest and down into the pit of his stomach, "Tell me if you want to stop."

"I don't," it came out as barely a whisper, likely caused by the fact that he felt like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs.

He let his body relax into the couch cushions as Graves pressed closer, one hand migrating to his upper thigh and the other firmly planted on his hip. Graves started running sloppy kisses up and down his neck, and he instinctively grabbed ahold of his tie to pull him in closer, their bodies now flush with one another. Graves gently bit down on one of his earlobes and he was barely able to stifle a high-pitched breathy moan. Graves' breathing was getting heavier as the contact deepened, and his hips began to grind in a slow and steady rhythm. Newt arched his back at the contact; even through the layers of fabric covering his groin, all of his nerve endings were exploding.

He felt like his skin was on fire, all he wanted to do was rip all of his clothes off, but their movements had become too frantic, and it already felt so good. He could feel Graves through his trousers as his hips sped up, and his zipper was starting to feel painfully tight. Graves' teeth scraped along his jawline and he let out another moan, throwing his head back. He arched his back again, and Graves gripped his hips as his own picked up speed. He felt like his blood was boiling; his breaths were erratic and short until finally his vision filled with sparks in white-hot ecstasy, and a warm wetness spread across his crotch as he came with a soft moan. Graves followed shortly after, gripping onto his hipbones with a bruising intensity as he grunted into the crook of his neck and eventually collapsed against him. 

Both of them laid there for what felt like hours, entangled in each other and panting heavily. Graves had his fingers tangled in his hair and Newt gripped the back of Graves' shirt like his life depended on it. He felt so warm and safe in that moment, that before he knew it, his eyelids had drifted shut and his breathing finally slowed, lulling him into a deep and heavy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hit a MAJOR writing block on this one so uhhhhhh sorry for not updating in like four months :/ you know that spongebob episode when he tries to write the essay for mrs. puff but all he can come up with in four hours is "The..."? that was me with this chapter.
> 
> i'm hoping to keep this one and my other one going at the same time but we'll see
> 
> also i've never written porn before so i apologize if it seems cliche


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